Searching for Percy
by Poppy P
Summary: Percy's daughter Petra was born after his death. In her 3rd yr at school she becomes curious about the father she's never known. She sets out to find out who Percy really was. COMPLETE. Written prior to the release of Oot so completely AU. Please RR.
1. Ch 1 History Will Teach Us Nothing

Searching for Percy  
  
By Poppy P  
  
  
  
A/N: Standard disclaimer applies, I am not making money off of this fic, it is just for entertainment purposes. All recognizable characters belong to JK Rowling. This is a sequel of sorts to "I'm Like a Bird", although you probably don't have to read it to get this, (but it helps, and so does reviewing BTW, hehe). Also, there will be little tidbits from my other stories and possible cameos from other SQ universes if I can convince a couple of ROXin authors. Title of this chapter comes from the song "History Will Teach Us Nothing" by Sting. Great big thanks to my dream team: Zsenya, Soupytwist and Yolanda for their beta-ing, British-ing and all around good advise-ing. Hope you all Enjoy!  
  
1 Chapter 1 – History Will Teach Us Nothing...  
  
  
  
I know that I'm a prisoner  
  
To all my Father held so dear  
  
I know that I'm a hostage  
  
To all his hopes and fears  
  
I just wish I could have told him in the living years  
  
-The Living Years by Mike and the Mechanics  
  
  
  
Thirteen-year-old Petra Weasley, heaved a loud groan and put her head down. Her auburn-colored plait scraped against the blank piece of parchment before her.  
  
"What's wrong?" asked her cousin, Billy Weasley, a short, freckled first year. The two Gryffindors were sharing a table in their common room. Petra had several rolls of parchment lying around her as well as various quills and two pots of scarlet ink. Billy was reading a Quidditch magazine, his strawberry-blond hair barely visible over the top as he poured over the latest in racing brooms. He didn't even bother to look up as Petra spoke.  
  
Petra sat up with her hands over her eyes. "It's this bloody history assignment!" she moaned through her hands. "Listen to this: Chose an important figure from the war and describe the characteristics that make that person a hero to you. You must use at least three different references. At least one of these should include an interview. Be prepared to deliver a three-minute speech on your hero before the class." Petra's brow furrowed in indignation. "Stupid Binns! What kind of assignment is that?"  
  
"That doesn't sound too hard," reasoned Billy, setting down his magazine so that it didn't stick to the huge gum bubble he was blowing. "Just take your pick. We're related to half the Order," he said, talking around the bubble.  
  
"I know, I know. That's the problem," said Petra, chewing thoughtfully on the end of her quill. "Do I choose Uncle Harry or Uncle Ron? Aunt Hermione or Granny Weasley? Granddad or Auntie Ginny?"  
  
"What about Uncle Percy?" asked Billy, causing his bubble to bob up and down. It was bigger than his face now.  
  
"My dad? Why would I pick my dad?" asked Petra, bemused.  
  
"Duh," said Billy with difficulty.  
  
"Do you really think he was a hero?" asked Petra tilting her head reflectively.  
  
"He died in the war effort, didn't he?" Billy's voice took on the characteristic softness that all the Weasleys took when discussing Percy.  
  
Petra marveled that even Billy could take this tone considering that he had never met her father either. That soft tone had always made her uncomfortable, but for some reason it really irritated her now. "Just because someone was killed by Death Eaters doesn't make them a hero. Look at Cornelius Fudge," she pointed out petulantly.  
  
"Who's Cornelius Fudge?" asked Billy, standing up to accommodate the size of his bubble.  
  
"He was the Minister of Magic before Granddad and Sirius Black!" said Petra sharply. "Don't you ever pay attention in History of Magic?"  
  
"No," said Billy indifferently, his bubble stretching towards his knees.  
  
"Well, you should," said Petra with aggravation.  
  
"Yes, yes we all know how smart you are," his voice echoed slightly inside the bubble. "You should've gone to Ravenclaw, really."  
  
Petra's eyes flashed with anger. Billy knew she was sensitive about the fact that she wasn't sorted into Ravenclaw. She had always felt this was a disappointment for her mum. Penelope had been a Ravenclaw prefect during her time at Hogwarts. Petra grabbed her quill off the table and poked Billy's bubble with it.  
  
"Ha!" said Billy, pulling the bubble out of his mouth. He held the end pinched between his fingers. "It's Drooble's Best, so it won't pop." He glanced around the room slyly before turning to Petra with a smirk. "So take that, Pickles."  
  
Petra bristled instantly at the sound of her family nickname. "I told you not to use that name at Hogwarts you prat," she hissed, drawing her wand and pointing it at Billy's face. "Reventarus!"  
  
Billy's gum bubble burst with a resounding 'pop!' covering his face and robes with pink, sticky goo. He gaped at her open-mouthed, too furious to respond. "Y..you!…"  
  
"Goodbye cousin," said Petra sweetly before sprinting up the staircase towards the third year girls' dorm.  
  
"I'll get you back for this, Pickles!" he called after her.  
  
As soon as she entered her room she was accosted by her one of her dorm mates, Mauve Finnegan, a giggly, sandy-haired girl. "Oh my gosh! Can you believe Binns? Four rolls of parchment and three different references! It's not fair! Who are you going to write yours on?" asked Mauve breathlessly.  
  
Petra stared at her roommate, admiring the fact that she could cram so many sentences in between breaths. "I dunno," she said turning away from Mauve. Her gaze fell on a small, framed picture sitting on her dresser. The photo showed Petra's father standing behind her mother with his hands on her belly. Like all wizarding photographs, it moved, and every few seconds her father would rub his hands across her mother's stomach, smiling broadly over her shoulder. Occasionally, her photographic mother would lean back and turn around to plant a kiss on her father's cheek. When her mum gave her that picture, right before she started Hogwarts, she'd explained that her uncle Charlie had taken this picture when she was six months pregnant. Her father was killed shortly after the picture was taken.  
  
Petra picked the picture up, running a hand over the gilt-edged frame. She didn't look up as she spoke. "My cousin Billy thinks I should write about…my dad," she said hesitantly.  
  
Mauve's eyes widened. "Ooh Petra! That's perfect! You won't even have to do much research. You can just interview three family members! You are so lucky your dad was a war hero!" she exclaimed, throwing herself back on her four-poster.  
  
Petra had the urge to say something sarcastic like, "Yeah, it's really great having a dead father whom I've never known." However, since it was Mauve, she figured the comment would be wasted. Instead she said, "I suppose I could write about my father." She frowned slightly. "The thing is…it's just that… I don't know much about him..."  
  
Mauve sat up on her bed and looked at her skeptically. "Your family's never told you about your own father?"  
  
"No, I mean yes. I dunno…" said Petra, flustered, putting the photo back down on her dresser. "Granny's always made sure I had plenty of pictures of him while I was growing up. Mum's told me all about how they fell in love and how they were mad about each other up until he died. My Uncle Ron always talks about how smart he was and everything," she paused, unsure of how to put her concern in to words. "It's just that, well, they wouldn't be very objective now, would they? What if Percy Weasley was only a hero to them? I mean, can I really write a whole essay about him?"  
  
Mauve looked slightly uncomfortable. "You're being silly," she said finally. "Of course he was a hero. You'll write a fine essay, I'm sure of it. Besides, we all know how clever you are."  
  
"I guess," said Petra softly. There was an uncomfortable pause.  
  
Mauve quickly changed the subject as she always did when something was threatening to make her think too deeply. "Let's go down to dinner now. Maybe we'll run into Damien Thomas." She smiled mischievously. "I heard he's got a crush on you," she said in a singsong voice.  
  
"Shut up!" protested Petra, trying to keep a blush from creeping up her face. Her history assignment was momentarily forgotten as she thought of Damien, a tall, handsome Ravenclaw with skin the color of milk and coffee. "I told you, we're just friends. We've known each other forever. Our mums were friends from school." Damien was the son of her mum's fellow Ravenclaw, Padma Patil.  
  
"It's a Hogsmeade weekend on Saturday," said Mauve with a smirk. "Maybe your friend will ask you to go with him." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.  
  
"Oh shove it, would you?" said Petra, smiling in spite of herself, aware that her ears were horribly hot now.  
  
"I'm serious!" said Mauve, starting for the door. "I saw how cozy you two were during Astronomy."  
  
Petra ducked her head as she followed her dorm mate out the door. "He needed to borrow my telescope!" she protested weakly.  
  
"Uh huh," said Mauve before launching into a detailed lecture on her favorite subject - boys.  
  
Petra smiled as she listened to her friend's cheerful prattle. Mauve's voice had a tendency to drive everything out of one's mind.  
  
Almost.  
  
At the bottom of the staircase Petra stopped and looked up at the plaque above the entrance to the boys' staircase. During her two and a half years as a Gryffindor she had read this plaque many times. She knew the inscription by heart.  
  
This wing is dedicated to all of the brave men of Gryffindor who paid the ultimate price so that wizards and Muggles alike could one day live without fear of the dark shadow that threatened to end our world. It is an honor to recognize them as members of the distinguished House of Gryffindor.  
  
She located her father's name easily, Percival Angelus Weasley, Class of 93, Prefect, 91-92, Head Boy 93.  
  
"What are you looking at?" asked Mauve, tugging at the sleeve of her robe. She had finally noticed that Petra was no longer listening to her. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"Um, nothing," said Petra, shaking her head and glancing around guiltily. How could she tell anyone the truth? She wasn't sure her father was really a hero. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she felt she didn't know much about him at all. "Let's just go down to dinner," she said moving towards the portrait hole.  
  
Just as she stepped away from the boys' staircase a burst of light cut through the air as Billy's squeaky voice was heard shouting, "Petrificus Totalus!" However, as Petra had just stepped away, the hex hit the common room mirror, which she had been standing in front of, and ricocheted back to Billy, whose arms flew to his sides as his body became rigid. He fell to the ground to the ground with a heavy 'clunk'!  
  
Petra and Mauve burst into giggles over Billy's predicament. "You'll have to do better than that, first year," snorted Petra.  
  
"Idiot boy!" said Mauve rolling her eyes. "He's as bad as my little brothers!" Mauve had four younger brothers. Michael was a first year who had been sorted into Ravenclaw, much to the surprise and delight of Mauve's parent's.  
  
Billy's eyes roved around wildly, clearing beseeching Petra for help. She leaned down and patted the side of his face with her palm. "No, I don't think so, cousin dear. I think I'll just leave you here and let you think about the consequences of messing with a witch who's obviously older and wiser."  
  
Billy's eyes widened further as Petra and Mauve walked away, chortling happily.  
  
"Are you really going to leave him like that?" asked Mauve as they pushed their way through the portrait hole.  
  
"Of course. Some prefect is bound to stumble on him on their way down to dinner," said Petra confidently. "Eventually." 


	2. Ch 2 Howlers, Letters and Sandcastles

Chapter 2  
  
Howlers, Letters and Sandcastles  
  
A/N: To everybody that reviewed ch 1, a big thanks and an SQ cheer! (What is an SQ cheer? Do we have one? If not, then why not?) Now if only I could get people to read/review me over at FF.N (what is it w/ that place that people never review? Or maybe [horrors!] people aren't reading me there?) Oh okay, I'm done whining. Much appreciation to my beta, Z, (who remembered that Veelas shriek), and my British beta, Soupytwist (who provided much needed British geography assistance).  
  
  
  
Petra made her way through the Great Hall, heading towards the Gryffindor table for breakfast. Her book bag was heavy and kept tugging on her auburn plait. She reached the table and plunked herself down next to Mauve who was sitting across from Billy. Mauve was snickering as she watched Billy in amusement.  
  
"What's up?" asked Petra, staring across the table at Billy. He was looking up at the enchanted ceiling anxiously. Petra followed his gaze but saw nothing unusual about the ceiling, which today was reflecting a semi- gloomy sky. She looked back at Billy and noted that he was extremely pale under his coppery freckles. She glanced at Mauve questioningly. Petra had noticed that although Mauve teased Billy unceasingly, she always seemed to be extra giggly when he was around. Petra wondered if it was Billy's heritage working on her or if it was just the fact that Mauve was silly. She shrugged and calmly reached for her napkin.  
  
"He's waiting for the post," explained Mauve finally after she saw that Petra was not going to ask again.  
  
"Yeah, thanks a lot cousin," said Billy, glancing briefly at Petra. "Longbottom gave me a detention and wrote to Mum and Dad about me putting Petrificus Totalus on myself." Professor Longbottom was their Head of House and the Herbology professor. Although he was very kind, he was also very strict. Billy had spent much time in his office since the start of term. It was common Weasley knowledge that Billy already rivaled his uncles Fred and George for most mischief caused in the first month of school.  
  
"That's my third detention this month! Mum's going to send me a Howler for sure," said Billy with a shudder.  
  
"And how exactly is this my fault?" asked Petra disinterestedly, reaching for the orange juice.  
  
"If you had just stayed still so I could curse you…" muttered Billy. He attempted to shove a forkful of food in his mouth without taking his eyes off the ceiling. He ended up with scrambled egg on his left cheek.  
  
Mauve snorted. "Idiot boy!"  
  
Petra sighed heavily. "Have you ever had to put up with one of these?" she asked Mauve in an afflicted voice.  
  
"Four of them," said Mauve matter-of-factly. "I call them brothers." She looked over Billy's shoulder towards the Ravenclaw table. "Oh look, there's one of them now. Look who's sitting next to him."  
  
Petra spotted Michael Finnigan and saw that Damien Thomas was sitting next to him. Almost as if he sensed Petra's gaze, he looked up from his plate and gave her a cheery wave. Petra smiled at him, but looked away quickly, irritated with herself as she felt her cheeks grow hot. It was just Damien. They'd known each other all of their lives. She didn't know why Mauve had to act so silly about them being friends, after all, Mauve had known Damien for a long time as well, their fathers, Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, were best friends. It was only recently that Petra got a funny, fluttering feeling in her stomach every time she thought of Damien and it annoyed her to no end. She nudged Mauve roughly. "Don't do that!" Petra hissed. Mauve merely smirked.  
  
Billy broke his ceiling vigil to glance over his shoulder. He turned back to Petra with a Cheshire cat grin. "What? Damien Thomas?" he asked innocently. "Oh we've always known they'd get together. Ever since they were ickle babies and their mums made them share a crib."  
  
Mauve choked on her orange juice. "You shared a crib?" she sputtered.  
  
"We have pictures," said Billy helpfully.  
  
"Shut. Your. Mouth. You. Warty. Little. Toad!" Petra punctuated each word with a kick to Billy's shin.  
  
"Ow! Ow! Ow!" yelped Billy through his laughter. "That hurts! And here I thought I was your favorite cousin."  
  
"What ever gave you that impression?" asked Petra acidly. She cast a furtive look across the room at Damien. Luckily he was talking to some of his housemates. She felt relieved, yet slightly disappointed.  
  
"You shared a crib?" repeated Mauve incredulously. Petra gave her an icy glare that made her turn back to her toast hastily.  
  
"Well, I should be your favorite cousin," said Billy, returning to his ceiling vigil.  
  
"And why is that?" asked Pedtra with an arched eyebrow.  
  
"Because," said Billy, glancing briefly at Petra. His tone turned soft and serious. "I owled Dad last night about you needing information on Uncle Percy. I figured he'd be able to give you some good stuff for your essay."  
  
"You did what?" asked Petra, going the color of Billy's glass of milk.  
  
Billy didn't answer however as the post owls swooped in at that moment in a rush of wings and feathers. His light-blue eyes widened in panic as he spotted a pristine, snowy owl makings its way towards him with a scarlet envelope in it's beak.  
  
"Mum's owl," he croaked weakly.  
  
"Don't just stand there, you prat," said Mauve as the owl delivered the Howler to Billy. "Take that thing outside!"  
  
Billy took the envelope and sprinted out of the Great Hall amidst snickers and catcalls. In a few seconds Petra heard a tremendous explosion followed by the sound of her Aunt Fleur's shrill voice. "William Albus Weasley! What is ze meaning of zis? Third owl in a month!"  
  
Aunt Fleur's high shrieks went on and on with threats of removing Billy from Hogwarts and transferring him to Beauxbatons where, "Zey don't put up with zis nonsense!"  
  
When her Aunt Fleur's tirade was over, Petra was surprised to hear her Uncle Bill's voice. "Er…yeah! Everything your mother said Billy!" His tone turned conversational, although his voice still reverberated throughout the hall. "Oh yes. Son, please let Petra know that she's chosen a great hero. I'll send her some information soon. Take care."  
  
Petra sank down in her chair, humiliated. People were looking her way with bemused smiles. "I'm going to die," she whispered to Mauve. "I am seriously going to die."  
  
"You might want to save your owl first," said Mauve helpfully, pointing at the table where their ancient owl, Hermes, lay passed out on a platter of sausages.  
  
"Hermes!" cried Petra, giving the owl a tiny shake as she pulled the letter from his talons. The owl opened one bleary eye and gave a tired sort of 'hoot'. "Honestly! Dunno why Mum keeps using Dad's owl for post. We have Thor, he's much more reliable." Petra's own owl Chudley, was currently in the owlery with the school owls.  
  
Hermes drew himself off the platter with stiff dignity and regarded Petra in a sour, reproachful sort of way.  
  
Petra rolled her eyes. "Sorry Hermes," she said, offering him a strip of bacon, which he took in his beak before flying off with one last sulky look at Petra. She didn't notice as she was already opening her mum's letter.  
  
Dear Petra,  
  
How are you? I miss you very much. I got an interesting fire call from your Uncle Bill last night. I'm happy to hear that you're writing an essay about your father. I'll let all of the Weasleys know. I'm sure they can give you some wonderful information as well. Do you need anything from me? Just send me an owl. I'm really looking forward to the A.D. Ball this year…  
  
The ball her mum was referring to was the Albus Dumbledore Halloween Charity Ball, an event held at Hogwarts for the past twelve years. Students, staff and alumni gathered on that night to raise money for war widows and orphans. Petra and Penny themselves had been recipients of one of the first awards. Petra's mum and stepfather, Dave, came to the ball every year, as did most of the Weasley family.  
  
I finally developed those pictures from summer holiday, so I've enclosed one for you. Don't Jake and Rachelle look sweet? Owl me when you get a chance. I'll see you on Halloween.  
  
1 Love, Mum  
  
Petra looked in the envelope and pulled out a photograph. It showed her mum, her stepfather, her three-year-old brother Jake and her one-year- old sister Rachelle. Her mum and Dave always spent a month in Cornwall with Dave's parents on summer holiday. Petra spent the month at the Burrow with her grandparents, usually accompanied with various Weasley cousins. She could've gone with her Mum and Dave. Dave's parents had always been fond of her. But the Weasleys always looked forward to having Petra and she had a feeling that it would break her grandmother's heart if she didn't spend summer with her.  
  
In the picture, her mother had to reach out every few seconds to stop Rachelle from putting a chubby fist full of sand in her mouth. Dave was building a sandcastle with Jake despite the fact that he kept trying to kick it down.  
  
Petra liked Jake and Rachelle very much although she felt more like an aunt than a sister due to the age difference. They didn't look much alike either. While Petra had curly, auburn-colored hair, her brother and sister had straight, blond hair like their father's. Petra had light brown, honey-colored eyes. Jake had their mother's gray, Rachelle her father's blue. Petra was also lanky and tall for her age, a trait everyone attributed to her father. Although Jake and Rachelle were still little, Petra doubted they'd be tall as both her mother and Dave were of average height.  
  
As Petra looked at the happy little scene in the photo a familiar, wistful longing stirred within her. She wondered what if would be like to be a part of such a scene. Petra tried to picture herself there with her father in Dave's place. She wondered if he would help her build a sandcastle like Dave was helping Jake. Unbeknownst to her, Petra gave a little sigh.  
  
"What's wrong?" asked Mauve, shattering Petra's daydream.  
  
"Nothing," said Petra quickly, shoving the photo and the letter into her book bag. "Let's get to Potions." Petra shouldered the bag, which felt somehow heavier than when she had first walked into the Great Hall.  
  
"Are you sure nothing's wrong?" asked Mauve, uncharacteristically intuitive.  
  
"I'm too old for sandcastles," whispered Petra sadly and marched on, leaving a confused Mauve behind. 


	3. Ch 3 Vox de Morte

1.1 Searching for Percy  
  
1.2 By Poppy P  
  
A/N: So many people to thank, where do I start? Okay, first of all, you may recognize Gareth and Colin Snape and Viviana Lupin from Yolanda's "No Clue" universe, an awesome story, go read it now. A great big thanks to her for letting me play w/ her kids. Thanks to Z and Arabella because the idea of the wand joining ceremony came from "After the End". Also to Z for beta-ing. To Katie aka Souptwist for saving me from my Americanisms and her many wonderful suggestions, she ROXs! Oh yes and to my real life friend, rabinnia who helped me with the potion, she ROX's too! Okay, on to the show…  
  
1.3 Chapter 3 – Vox de Morte  
  
Do not weep, babe, for war is kind.  
  
Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches,  
  
Raged at his breast, gulped and died,  
  
Do not weep.  
  
War is kind.  
  
2 From the poem "War is Kind" by Stephen Crane  
  
Petra rubbed her hand roughly over her eyes. They had been bothering her for several days. She supposed it was from all of the extra work the professors had been piling on. Not to mention the additional time she was spending in the library looking for information on her father.  
  
Petra's godmother, Hermione, had taken the position of school librarian at Hogwarts when Madam Pince had retired two years ago. At Petra's request Hermione had run a magical index on the library, searching for books on 'Percy Weasley'. The index took longer than Petra thought, but after a couple of days, Hermione had called Petra to the library where she told her that only three books had come up: Hogwarts, a History where he was listed as a prefect and head boy; Prefects Who Gained Power, which described his rise through the Ministry of Magic but hadn't been updated to include his work with the Order of the Phoenix; and Cauldrons, How Thick is Your Bottom?.  
  
The last book was hidden in the back of the library with a slew of other Ministry reports, but it was worth finding it for it had been written by her father himself. Petra delved into her father's book eagerly, half annoyed at her mother for never telling her that her father was a published author. However, Percy's book turned out to be nothing more than an extensive Ministry report on the dangers of substandard cauldron bottom thickness. It was quite thorough, but it didn't really give any insight on her father's character, other than the fact that he was a great researcher.  
  
The best part of the book, in Petra's opinion, was the picture of her father on the back in a pinstriped cloak and lime-colored bowler. In the picture her father was looking at a bubbling cauldron and frowning as a thick, green slime oozed out of the bottom. He looked so stern and intelligent in his horned-rimmed glasses that Petra could have stared at it all day. It was certainly better than anything Petra had received from her family.  
  
The letters had started arriving soon after Billy's howler. Grandma Weasley had written a long letter describing her father as a wonderful son, "intelligent and obedient." Uncle Charlie called him, "my favorite kid brother, because he never sent me trick sweets by post or made me help him smuggle illegal dragons." Sometimes Petra wondered what in the world that one was talking about. Uncle Fred owled and said his brother was "better at making bets than me – ask your mum." Aunt Ginny wrote that Percy was a great older brother, "who was always looking out for his younger siblings even if it meant making them take Pepper-Up Potion." Petra noticed that she hadn't received anything from her godfather Ron, but she wasn't surprised. He had become more and more withdrawn since his separation from her godmother Hermione three years ago.  
  
Uncle George wrote as well, but only to ask Petra to meet him for lunch during the first Hogsmeade weekend.  
  
Petra tossed all of the letters into her school bag. None of them told her anything she hadn't already heard.  
  
Thursday evening found Petra in the library, once more poring over her father's cauldron bottom report with bleary eyes. She was meeting her assigned Muggle Studies group for a study session. Since the end of the war, all third year students at Hogwarts were required to take Muggle Studies to improve Muggle/Wizard relations. The class was crowded as all four houses took the class together. At the start of the school year, the class was split up into groups of four and assigned a yearlong project. Petra's group included Damien Thomas, Gareth Snape from Slytherin and Helga MacMillan from Hufflepuff. Their assigned project was Muggle transportation. The group met in the library twice a week to work on their project.  
  
The minute Damien walked in he looked at Petra and did a double take. "What's wrong with your eyes?" he asked.  
  
Petra looked up at him through squinted eyes. "I dunno, but they're really bothering me. Maybe it's all this stupid homework."  
  
Damien tossed his school bag on the table and sank his lanky frame into a chair. "I know what you mean. If Snape makes us memorize one more bloody potion…"  
  
"You'll what Thomas?" said a sneering voice behind them, making them jump.  
  
"Gods Gareth!" gasped Petra, clutching her chest. "Don't do that! You sound just like your dad." Gareth's dad was their strict Potions Master, Professor Snape.  
  
Gareth, a thin, gangling boy with intensely dark eyes, straddled a chair, laughing heartily at them. "Gets them every time," he said smugly.  
  
"Obnoxious git," muttered Damien good-naturedly. Their group generally got on very well.  
  
They were joined shortly by Helga, a short, round faced girl with thick, blond plaits hanging down her back. "Sorry I'm late," she said breathlessly. "I just got an owl from Mum. Guess what she sent me to use as a visual aide for my hero report?" Without waiting for an answer, Helga reached into her school bag and withdrew a small figure, which she placed on the table before them.  
  
"Madam Granger?" asked Damien.  
  
Indeed, the tiny figure was that of Petra's godmother Hermione.  
  
"Yes," said Helga happily. "I'm going to write my essay on Hermione Granger-Weasley."  
  
"You and half the school," said Gareth in a bored voice.  
  
Petra gave Gareth a nasty look as Helga's shoulders slumped in disappointment and said, "That's great Helga, especially since she's here at school and you can interview her yourself." She looked down at the little figure, which was now sitting down on the table, with a tiny copy of "Hogwarts, a History" open before her. "That's a really good likeness of her too. I've seen some that didn't look like her at all. I even saw one of my Uncle Ron that had this horrible bowl haircut." Petra giggled remembering how her Uncle Ron had gone on about that one.  
  
Helga flashed her a grateful smile. "Thanks Petra." She blinked suddenly, as though she'd suddenly remembered something. "Oh, that's right! She's your aunt. " Petra smiled and nodded as Helga continued, "Is it true that she's separated from your Uncle Ron now?"  
  
Petra's smile faded as she nodded tightly, her stomach clenching the way it always did when she thought about her godparent's separation three years ago. It had come as such a shock when they split up shortly after the birth of their daughter, Hillary. The Weasley family had been in an absolute uproar when Uncle Ron had moved out of their home in Hogsmeade and back to the Burrow. Neither Ron nor Hermione would tell anyone what went wrong, not even Uncle Harry who was their best friend. The only thing anyone knew for sure was that Ron had changed. He had always been protective of Petra, but since the separation he was doubly so, to the point where it was annoying. Once her closest link to her father, Ron had stopped discussing Percy with Petra, always changing the subject whenever he came up. Ron hardly ever went out unless it was to his job at the Ministry or to pick up Hillary for a visit. He rarely smiled. The only thing that kept the family hopeful was the fact that Ron and Hermione's wands were still joined. The dissolution of a wizarding marriage required that a Ministry official disconnect the couple's wands. Neither of them had requested an un-joining yet.  
  
Damien, who was aware of Petra's discomfort concerning her godparent's separation, attempted to change the subject. "So Gareth, who are you writing about?"  
  
"I was going to write about my dad," he said, "but I figured a lot of people were going to choose him as well, so I decided to pick my Uncle Michael." He shrugged his dark hair out of his eyes.  
  
"From the FBM in the States?" asked Petra.  
  
"Yeah," said Gareth sheepishly, despite the proud smile creeping up on his face. "How about you lot?"  
  
"I'm writing about my dad," said Petra quietly.  
  
Damien gave her a curious look before answering. "My Aunt Parvati."  
  
Petra stared at him, confused. "I've never heard you mention her before."  
  
"Wait, I think I've heard of her before," said Gareth. "Dad mentioned her a couple of times. Wasn't she some kind of Seer?"  
  
"Yeah, she died here during the Siege of Hogwarts," said Damien quietly. "The reason I've never mentioned her is because I only found out that she existed a couple of months ago. She was my mum's twin sister."  
  
"That's so sad," said Helga mournfully.  
  
"Dad said not to let Mum know that he told me. She doesn't like to talk about it." Damien inclined his head to the side thoughtfully. "But the really strange thing is that nobody in the family has ever mentioned her to me before either, not my grandparents or my Uncle Narhari. There aren't any pictures of her in the house either, though I reckon she looked like Mum since they were twins."  
  
"I can see why your mum wouldn't want to talk about her," said Petra. "I have twin uncles and they're very close. I can't imagine what one would do if they lost the other. But that is weird that no one else had ever told you about her. Does Deidra know?" Deidra was Damien's ten-year-old sister.  
  
Damien shook his head. "Dad only decided to tell me about her because I signed up for Divination. Apparently she was a very talented Seer."  
  
Gareth looked impressed. "Those are rare."  
  
"She also saved my dad's life," said Damien, slightly in awe.  
  
"What happened?" asked Helga tentatively.  
  
Damien took a big breath. "Like I said, it was during the Siege. A small group of Death Eaters broke through the wards protecting the school. The knew Harry Potter wasn't here, but they were hoping to get his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger." He looked over at Petra, who nodded for him to continue. "Only they weren't here either. The Order had hidden them away with the Fidelius Charm, they each had their own Secret-Keeper."  
  
Petra interrupted, perplexed, "I never knew that!"  
  
Damien continued. "Yes, well the Death Eaters didn't know that either. They stormed the castle, attacking all the seventh year classes." He shuddered slightly. "Dad says they were in Divination. Two Death Eaters walked into the room, wearing masks, and disarmed everyone. When they saw that Ron and Hermione weren't there, they demanded that all the Muggle-borns come to the front. They were going to kill them," said Damien darkly. "Dad's Muggle-born, so he was standing in front with Lavender Brown, you know, Mauve's mother. Just as they were about to curse them, my Aunt Parvati ran in front of them, deflecting the curse with a protective spell. The curse rebounded on the Death Eaters, it stunned them both long enough for everyone to get out, but it was too much for my aunt, it killed her." Damien finished, looking around the table at their somber faces.  
  
"She was really brave," said Helga softly.  
  
Petra nodded, unable to speak.  
  
"Did she know she was going to die?" asked Gareth soberly. "Is that why she had the protective spell in place already?"  
  
"Dad thinks she did," answered Damien. "A few days after the Siege, they found Aunt Parvati's crystal ball in the wreckage of the North Tower. It had an anti-shatter charm placed on it. There was also a note Spell-O-Taped to the bottom. Aunt Parvati wrote that if she were no longer around, she wanted Mum to save her crystal ball as she thought there might be another Seer in the family someday who could use it…" he trailed off.  
  
Petra clutched his arm suddenly. "Damien! You've shown signs of the Inner Eye since we were little, do you suppose she meant you?" she asked.  
  
"I dunno," said Damien sadly. "But I like to think so."  
  
They were all quiet for a few seconds, lost in their respective thoughts.  
  
"It's too bad you never knew her," said Helga finally.  
  
"And it's really a shame that your mum won't talk about her," said Petra, mentally thanking her family for at least telling her about her father.  
  
"Yeah," said Damien. "I just wish I could've known her. If only I could see her, just once, you know?" he added wistfully.  
  
"I know what you mean," muttered Petra.  
  
They were all quiet again for a second until Gareth spoke up abruptly. "There's a potion…" he said hesitantly.  
  
"Yes," prompted Damien.  
  
"It's called the Vox de Morte Potion," said Gareth slowly.  
  
"I've never heard of it," said Helga.  
  
Gareth glanced around the library furtively and lowered his voice so that they all crouched low over the table to hear him. "It's Dark Magic," he whispered.  
  
"W-what does it do?" asked Petra, an icy chill racing down her spine.  
  
Gareth looked at them intently before continuing. He lowered his voice further. "It was developed by Voldemort during the first war. "It seems his henchmen were sometimes a little too rough with captives, killed them before the Dark Lord got a chance to question them sometimes. So my…I mean…this potion was developed to allow him to communicate with the dead. It's based on the ancient Egyptian ritual called the Opening of the Mouth ceremony, which allowed wizards to communicate with the dead. Only, it's extremely dangerous."  
  
"How do you know about this potion?" asked Petra nervously.  
  
Gareth turned a dark fathomless look on her, eerily reminiscent of Professor Snape. "I just do," he stated simply.  
  
Damien gulped audibly. "Why is it so dangerous?" he asked.  
  
"Like I said, it's Dark Magic, and anytime you use that stuff, you're risking your soul. It's called the Vox de Morte because you can converse with the dead, but it's really limited. The dead that are at peace, don't remember much about their living selves. That's why they don't become ghosts. They can only speak about the events leading up to their death and what they were feeling at that moment. Sometimes, that's just not pretty." Gareth trembled slightly, as though a sudden chill had struck him.  
  
"W-why?" asked Helga tremulously.  
  
"Do you know what runs through a person's mind when they're going to die?" asked Gareth harshly. "There's so much fear, pain and regret. Not to mention that the ingredients for this potion are particularly…foul."  
  
"You know what they are though?" asked Damien eagerly, taking his quill in hand.  
  
"You wouldn't really use it, would you Damien?" asked Helga fearfully.  
  
Damien didn't answer immediately. He reached into his bag and drew out a clear, crystal orb. He ran his hands over the pewter base, which looked dark with age. He looked over at Petra. "Your father died before you were born, wouldn't you give anything to be able to talk to him, to see him?"  
  
Petra bit her bottom lip, eyes wide with uncertainty. However, she had to admit Damien was right.  
  
"But it's so dangerous!" said Helga, her voice rising.  
  
"Ssshh!" said everyone in unison.  
  
"Besides," said Gareth, "Who says I'll give you the ingredients anyway?"  
  
"Name your price Snape," said Damien quickly.  
  
Gareth grinned wolfishly. "Well…the A.D. Ball is coming up."  
  
"I am not going to the Ball with you!" said Damien in horror.  
  
"Not you, you stupid great prat!" snarled Gareth above their snickers. He turned to Petra. "Your roommate, Mauve Finnigan."  
  
"Wait," said Damien, why aren't you going with Viviana Lupin?" It was a well-known fact at school that Gareth Snape fancied Professor Lupin's daughter.  
  
Gareth turned a nasty, pale shade as a slight twitch began in the right side of his mouth. "She's…going with my brother, Colin," he said in a tightly controlled voice.  
  
"The first year!" asked Damien in surprised amusement.  
  
Gareth gave him a dangerous look. "Yes," he answered sullenly.  
  
Helga giggled. Viviana was one of her dorm mates. "Vivi told me all about it. She said Colin was so cute and bold when he asked, she just couldn't say no."  
  
"Now we know why that Snape made it into Gryffindor," smirked Damien.  
  
"Shut up," said Gareth sourly. "So how about it Weasley, the potion for a date with Mauve."  
  
Petra fought down the urge to laugh at the pleading look in Gareth's eyes despite his tough façade. "Sorry Gareth," she said slowly. "My cousin Billy asked Mauve already and she said yes. He and Colin made some kind of deal that they would both ask 'older women' to the Ball."  
  
The tick in the corner of Gareth's mouth became more pronounced. He closed his eyes briefly, apparently struggling to get a hold of himself. Suddenly he looked at Petra appraisingly. "What about you Weasley?" he asked.  
  
"Huh?" said Petra doubtfully.  
  
"We need dates for this stupid Ball thing. You're a girl and you're not hideous, so I suppose you'll do," said Gareth ungraciously.  
  
"Thanks a lot," said Petra sourly.  
  
"Wait!" said Damien quickly, he voice panicky. "What makes you think Petra would even consider going with you?" Maybe she already has a date."  
  
"Do you?" Gareth asked Petra.  
  
Petra glanced at Damien uncertainly, hoping he would say something, anything. However, he stayed silent, though she thought he looked a bit distressed. "Er…no," admitted Petra finally, "I don't have a date."  
  
"So go with me to the Ball and you'll get your potion ingredients," said Gareth patiently, his nervous tick gone now that he had the upper hand.  
  
Petra considered it for a few seconds. Gareth was right, nobody had asked her. She stared at Damien as she answered Gareth, suddenly furious with him although she didn't know why. "Sure Gareth, I'll go with you."  
  
Gareth smiled smugly, though his eyes betrayed his relief. "Great, that's great," he said weakly.  
  
"The potion ingredients, Snape," demanded Damien harshly.  
  
"You'll get them Thomas," said Gareth, slowly pulling a piece of parchment towards him and took up a quill.  
  
As Gareth started scratching out potion ingredients, Damien suddenly turned to Helga with a look of resolution. "Er…Helga, will you go to the Ball with me?" he asked quickly.  
  
Petra froze.  
  
Helga giggled, flushing a brilliant shade of pink. "Er, sorry Damien. I'm going with Maximillion."  
  
"Hagrid?" asked Damien incredulously.  
  
Helga nodded with a bright smile. Max Hagrid was a fellow Hufflepuff third year.  
  
"But he's so huge!" protested Damien. "How will you ever dance with him?"  
  
"At least he had the guts to ask her!" interrupted Petra petulantly. "Some boys don't even bother to ask!" Petra knew she was being ridiculous, and she couldn't even stop herself.  
  
"Guess we know why you didn't make it into Gryffindor, Thomas," said Gareth scathingly, arrogant once again.  
  
"Shut up Snape," said Damien tiredly. He thumped his elbow on the table and leaned heavily on it. "Are you almost done, or what?"  
  
"Just about," said Gareth. He remained bent over the parchment, but Petra could see a sly smile turning up the corners of his mouth.  
  
"Great," said Damien gloomily. "I hope this ruddy potion's worth it."  
  
"Me too," said Petra miserably. 


	4. Ch 4 Lovers in a Dangerous Time

Searching for Percy  
  
Chapter 4 – Lovers in a Dangerous Time  
  
By Poppy P  
  
A/N's: Big thanks to my beta-buddy Zsenya, my British-buddy Soupytwist and my good friend Yolanda. Title and song lyrics are from the song "Lovers in a Dangerous Time" by the Bare Naked Ladies (I love them!). Sorry for the long wait between chapters. But it turns out that I wrote two chapters at once, I just didn't know how to separate them. As a result, the next chapter should be up fairly quickly. I dunno if Emo Tuesday is reading this fic, but the Oliver Wood element is dedicated to her (go read her cute Oliver fic guys!). This chapter is based on another Percy fic I wrote, "The Broom Shed Incident". I suppose you don't really need it to understand this chapter, but it makes for a better reading experience. (Reviewing that fic and this one, makes for a better author experience : ). Hint, hint, nudge, nudge, wink, wink). On with the show guys…  
  
  
  
When you're lovers in a dangerous time  
  
Sometimes you're made to feel as if your love's a crime  
  
Nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight  
  
Gotta kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight  
  
1 Lovers in a dangerous time…  
  
  
  
"Weasley! Get your head out of the clouds!"  
  
At the sound of Professor Wood's voice, Petra veered sharply to the right on her broomstick, narrowly missing the heavy Bludger pelting towards her face. Her Beater's club banged painfully against her knee.  
  
"Oy, Weasley! Try using your club on the Bludger next time, eh?" shouted Kathryn Davies, her fellow Beater, a sixth year Slytherin.  
  
Professor Wood, dove towards the pitch, landed and blew his magically magnified whistle shrilly. "That's enough for tonight!" he called up to the team.  
  
Petra and her teammates made for the ground. She noticed that some of them were throwing nasty looks her way. Petra looked down on her broom handle, abashed. She couldn't blame them; she had been a bit distracted lately and it was definitely affecting her game. Ever since Gareth had given her and Damien the list of the ingredients for the Vox de Morte potion, she had found it difficult to concentrate on anything else, even Quidditch.  
  
Petra had been extremely honored when she had been chosen as a Beater for the Inter-house team. The Inter-house team represented Hogwarts in the Tri- School Quidditch League against Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. The league had been formed shortly after the war. Petra had been on the Gryffindor House team since her second year. Her uncles had been delighted when they heard the news, although her mother and grandmother Weasley were still appalled that she had chosen to play such an 'unlady-like' position. Her Uncle Ron however, had been livid. He thought it was a dangerous position for her to play, and ordered her to quit the team immediately. After much pleading and cajoling on Petra's part, he had finally conceded to let her play, especially when Penny pointed out that it really wasn't his decision anyway. Ron and Penny's relationship had become very strained after that, much to Petra's despair. It had been shortly after Ron's separation from Hermione, and Petra just couldn't fathom the change her favorite uncle had undergone. Despite all of his protests, Ron attended all of her games, although most of the time he sat by himself in the stands wearing a scowl for the duration of the match. When Petra had been chosen for the Inter- house team at the beginning of the current school year, Ron had gone through a similar reaction, although he resigned himself to the fact that Petra was going to play whether he liked it or not. Ron's unreasonableness was especially hurtful to Petra since she had come by her love of Quidditch through him.  
  
The last to land, Petra hung back in the semi-circle that surrounded Professor Wood. Hogwarts was most honored to have Oliver Wood coach the Inter-house team. He was the current Captain and Keeper for Puddlemore United and coached the Hogwarts team during Puddlemore's off-season. He was strict and expected a lot from his players. But the results showed; Hogwarts had won the league championship for the past three years that Wood had coached. He was also well liked by the student population, particularly the girls. His fame, boyish charm and deep, brown eyes fringed with golden brown lashes, made him a favorite with female students and faculty alike.  
  
Professor Wood regarded Petra critically now. "What's going on up there Weasley?" he asked, gesturing up at the sky. "You're supposed to hit the Bludgers, not shy away from them! How can your team function if one of their Beaters isn't protecting them?" Petra kept her gaze down at his feet which were now pacing back and forth, kicking up little puffs of dust from the pitch. "You're good Weasley, no doubt about it. You wouldn't be here otherwise. But you need to keep your mind on the game, understand?" Petra nodded sadly. "You'll be cleaning out the broom shed tonight to help you remember that," Professor Wood continued. "Dismissed!" he called out, blowing his whistle once again.  
  
Petra's teammates started to drift away, some shaking their heads in disgust. Only Max Hagrid, their Keeper, hung back. "Cheer up," he said, giving Petra a crooked grin and a playful cuff on the shoulder that almost sent her sprawling to the ground. She appreciated the gesture just the same.  
  
Petra sighed and started towards the broom shed, when Professor Wood called out, "Petra, can I see you for a minute?"  
  
"Yes?" said Petra hesitantly, fully expecting further reprimand.  
  
He held back until all of the other students were out of earshot. At last he spoke. "Sorry I had to lay into you out there, Petra. It's just that you've been really distracted these last few practices. Is something wrong?" he asked with concern.  
  
Petra's gaze shifted guiltily to the side. Was something wrong? Well, besides the fact that she had bartered herself as a date to get the ingredients for an illicit potion that would allow her to communicate with her dead father, everything was just fine.  
  
She looked up at Professor Wood again. "Nothing's wrong, Professor. Just thinking about my school work, that's all." She gave him a bright smile, though she couldn't help averting her eyes from his anxious gaze.  
  
"Come on now," said Wood, his concerned look fading with skepticism. "I've been around too many Weasleys not to know what that look means."  
  
Petra's eyebrows shot up with interest. "What do you mean?" she asked curiously.  
  
"I can read a Weasley as easily as a Quidditch diagram," he countered, folding his arms across his broad chest.  
  
"Oh, that's right," said Petra with a sheepish shrug of her shoulders, "I forgot you were on the Gryffindor team with Uncle Fred and Uncle George."  
  
"Ay," he responded a far off look in his eyes. "But actually, I was thinking about your father."  
  
"You knew my father?" asked Petra eagerly.  
  
"Shared a dorm with him for seven years," he paused. "Didn't you know?" he asked.  
  
"I didn't know you were that old!" blurted out Petra. As soon she realized what she had said, she clapped her glove-covered hand over her mouth. "Oops!" she said through her fingers.  
  
"Would you like to clean that broom shed out next week as well?" he asked sternly.  
  
"No Sir," responded Petra, wide-eyed.  
  
Wood broke out with a grin. "Just having you on," he said cheerfully. "But your father really was my mate. Brilliant student mind you, but a lousy liar."  
  
"What did he lie about?" asked Petra, keen to hear about this side of her father.  
  
"Your mother mostly," said Wood. "He was the first one of our crowd to fall in love, and we teased him mercilessly." He smiled, as the far-off look returned to his face. "During our sixth year he kept leaving the dorm late at night. Every time we asked him where he was going, he told us some vague story about special prefects training. After a while we started to get suspicious, so one night we followed him."  
  
"Wait!" said Petra incredulously. "Are you trying to tell me that my mum and dad used their authority as prefects to break the rules?"  
  
"Well," said Wood with a smirk, "they weren't studying. We caught them kissing, right in the middle of the restricted section of the library."  
  
Petra pressed her fingers over her mouth, giggling. "Did he know that you saw them?"  
  
"Oh we let him know," said Wood smiling. "We gave him a hard time once he got back to the dorm." He shook his head reflectively. "We were so immature. But you know something? Percy put us in our place after your mum got Petrified." He paused and looked at Petra. "You know about the basilisk and your mum getting Petrified, of course?"  
  
Petra nodded. "Uh huh."  
  
"We were trying to cheer him up," said Wood, "about Penny and he said 'Don't bother, because nothing makes sense without her. I love her.'" He looked down at Petra. "That took guts for a sixteen year old to say."  
  
Petra blinked hard several times and cleared her throat before she spoke. "My dad said that?" she asked quietly.  
  
Oliver nodded approvingly. "I always admired him for that. A lot of wizards in our generation got married young because of the war, but that wasn't the case with Percy. He had it all figured out long before the conflict started. He loved your mother and he didn't care who knew it after that." He shook his head sadly, then looked down at Petra with a sheepish smile. "Sorry Petra, I didn't mean to ramble on like that. I'm sure you've heard all about your dad. I just wanted to make sure you were all right."  
  
"Thank you," said Petra shyly. Then, before she lost her nerve, she leaned forward and did something many girls at Hogwarts would've liked to do. She placed a quick peck on Wood's cheek.  
  
Wood looked slightly embarrassed, but pleased all the same. Then he got a stern look and said, "Now get to that broom shed, missy, and let's keep our mind on Quidditch from now on, eh?"  
  
"I will," said Petra, the color rising on her face from her impulsive kiss. She turned on her heel and ran all the way to the broom shed. By the time she got there, she had rationalized with herself that kissing Professor Wood on the cheek was not that much different from kissing her uncles. Still, she couldn't wait to tell Mauve about it. Mauve would freak!  
  
As Petra started pulling brooms off of their hooks in the broom shed, she thought about what Professor Wood had said about her parents. She had always taken it for granted that her parents loved each other, but she had never thought about them being in love at that young age. She was practically as old as they were when Penny was Petrified, and she couldn't imagine feeling that strongly about anyone. In fact, now that Petra thought about it, lots of people Petra's age had extremely young parents. Damien's parents were a prime example, as were Mauve's. Petra figured Professor Wood was right when he said that people fell in love faster and younger during times of war.  
  
She was polishing the broom brackets when a memory hit her suddenly, and so clear that it was like watching a mental movie of herself. She was five years old, it was before her mum had started dating Dave. Petra had always thought her mum was beautiful with her long, dark, curly hair, sparkling gray eyes and happy laugh. Yet sometimes at night, unbeknownst to Penny, Petra would sneak to the door of her mum's room and hear her sobbing. It didn't happen very often, but sometimes, Penny would even cry out Percy's name. Petra could remember feeling scared and sad that someone as beautiful as her mum could feel such pain. In her five-year-old mind it was her father's fault that Mum was sad, and Petra hated him for that. She could never tell anyone about those nights of course. She couldn't betray Mum's secret like that. Besides, her Weasley grandparents and uncles always spoke so fondly of her father. But on those nights, listening to her mum's anguish, Petra hated Percy.  
  
She clenched her polishing rag convulsively, remembering her irrational hatred of the dead father she had never known. Petra hadn't thought about this in a long, long time. She had grown out of it, of course. Her mum had moved on as well, happy with her new marriage and children. But Petra remembered a promise she had made to herself at that time, that even to this day she had kept. She would never shed a tear for that man, Percy. And she never had.  
  
Petra had been in the broom shed for one long, dusty hour when she heard banging on the door and a familiar voice calling out her name. "Petra! Are you still in there?" Damien poked his head around the doorway and walked in.  
  
"What are you doing here?" asked Petra, hastily wiping at the front of her purple, practice robes. She knew she must look a fright after dusting off the rows and rows of cupboards.  
  
"Adrienne Lynch told me about practice. She said you might still be out here." Adrienne was a fifth-year Ravenclaw and Seeker on the Inter-house team. "Tough practice?" he asked.  
  
Petra grimaced. "You have no idea. I can't think about Quidditch, knowing what we're about to do."  
  
"Yeah." Damien nodded. "That's what I came out here to talk to you about. I've been doing some more reading on Vox de Morte. Guess what I found out?" In his eagerness he didn't wait for Petra to ask. "If the potion is taken near the vicinity of the person's death, the reception is much stronger. Anywhere they've been while they were alive works really, but their site of death works best. They're naturally drawn to that place." His dark eyes sparkled eagerly in the growing dimness of the broom shed.  
  
"Really?" asked Petra excitedly. "That's great! You can just take the potion up in the North Tower. All we have to do is get that old dingbat Trelawney out of the tower for a couple of hours." She frowned suddenly. "But…"  
  
"But what?" said Damien.  
  
"That's not so great for me, I guess. I don't know where my dad died," said Petra.  
  
"You've never asked?" Damien's eyes widened in surprise.  
  
"Not really," said Petra. "I don't know very many details of his death because every time I even tried to ask, my family gets all sad and teary- eyed. I can't handle that." Petra shuddered.  
  
Damien moved closer to Petra and put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, I know it must be hard on you."  
  
Petra looked up at him with a grateful smile. Damien smiled back and squeezed her shoulder. Suddenly, Petra felt very aware of their close proximity to each other and she became extremely nervous. She stiffened as Damien suddenly swooped down towards her face. She wondered if Damien was actually going to kiss her. However, he merely looked over her left ear and frowned. "What's that?" he asked.  
  
Petra turned around, her knees shaking. "What?" she asked breathlessly, squinting at the spot on the cupboards where Damien was looking.  
  
"It looks like writing," he said, pulling his wand out from his sleeve holster. "Lumos," he muttered. His wand light illuminated a small heart carved into the edge of the cupboard. In the middle of the heart were the initials P.A.W. + P.C. "Aren't those your initials, P.A.W?" asked Damien, looking at Petra curiously. "Petra Angelica Weasley."  
  
Petra frowned at the sound of her middle name. She had never really liked it. "Yes, those are my initials." Damien's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What?" asked Petra. "Oh!" she said, cottoning on, "I didn't carve that there!"  
  
"Then who's initials are these?" asked Damien.  
  
"I dunno," said Petra irritably, "These could've been there forever. Hogwarts is over a thousand years old, you know."  
  
"I suppose," said Damien doubtfully.  
  
Petra leaned closer to the carving, struck by a sudden idea. If she didn't know better, she might swear that these were her parent's initials. But that couldn't be. Petra just couldn't imagine her father defacing school property. From all she had heard about him, it would go against his nature. Her mother was just as bad about following the rules. But still… Petra remembered Professor Wood's words, "He loved your mother and he didn't care who knew it after that."  
  
Damien leaned closer as well. Petra could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck as he pressed close behind her. He touched his wand to the middle of the carving and read the initials out loud. "P.A.W. plus P.C."  
  
Suddenly, there was a flash of light as the carving took on a warm, pink glow. The initials in the heart disappeared and were replaced by the words Yule Ball, 1994. The scent of roses filled the broom shed, replacing its normally stale, dusty smell.  
  
"Wow," murmured Damien.  
  
Petra, however, remained silent, for in that moment, she knew exactly whose initials those were.  
  
Damien pulled his wand off the carving. The letters in the heart reverted back to the initials. The scent of roses slowly faded away like an old memory, or a dream. "Cool bit of Charm work, that," said Damien, putting his wand away. "I guess we should be heading back to the castle. Are you all done here?"  
  
Petra smiled. "For now."  
  
"What do you mean?" asked Damien curiously.  
  
"I think," said Petra, "that I've found the perfect place to take that potion."  
  
  
  
A/N's II: In the next chapter, George makes an appearance as does Ron and Hermione. We'll also get to meet Hillary, Ron and Hermione's 3-year-old daughter. Petra asks some questions that don't get answered. Billy gets tricked. Ron gets mad. Damien prepares to take the potion. See you soon! 


	5. Ch 5 Curious, Very Curious...

**Chapter Five: Curious, Very Curious…**

_When I was born they looked at me and said  
What a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy  
And when you were born they looked at you and said  
What a good girl, what a smart girl, what a pretty girl _

_We've got these chains that hang around our necks  
People want to strangle us with them before we take our first breath…_

_What a Good Boy, __Words by Steven Page, sung by Barenaked Ladies_

_**A/N: I wrote this story four years ago and due to complications uploading it here at I had just about given up hope of finishing it (although it is archived in its entirety at Sugarquill). However, some very nice people kept reviewing it and asking for it to be updated, so thanks to them, here it is. Special thanks to JaceDamien23. It is because of her that I finally got around to doing this. **_

_**Had to use another BNL song! I love those guys! The title, of course, comes from 'Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone'. A big thanks to those who've reviewed. I found George's girlfriend and description on a Chocolate Frogs card (credit to the Chocolate Frog Co.). Reminder: Gareth and Colin Snape appear courtesy of Yolanda. There are two obscure movie references in this chapter. One is from Star Wars, another is a play on one of Alan Rickman's lines in "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves". Hope you enjoy! A/N2 at the end of the fic are partially written by Zsenya and put there especially for Alphie. ; )**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves or Star Wars. This fic is written for entertainment purposes only. **_

Petra went to the infirmary on Friday morning at the insistence of her dorm mates. They were tired of having Petra stumble about the dormitory, knocking things over. She had managed to disregard the fact that her eyesight had gotten worse since she started Hogwarts. However, this year, it had become increasingly harder to ignore. The final straw had come when Petra sat on Mauve's cat Binky, thinking he was a furry, black cushion. Not to mention that Petra was getting increasingly alarmed at her inability to see the Bludgers coming at her in Quidditch practice; a dangerous situation indeed. However, Madam Pomfrey's diagnosis was so alarming, Petra almost wished she hadn't gone to the infirmary.

"No way!" exclaimed Petra, swiping a pair of glasses off of her face and pushing them away.

Madam Pomfrey, Hogwarts' elderly nurse, looked at Petra, aghast. "What do you mean, Miss Weasley?"

"I am _**not**_ wearing these glasses. Ever!" said Petra firmly.

"And why not?" demanded Madam Pomfrey.

"Look at them!" Petra held up the black, horned-rimmed glasses with their thick, heavy lenses.

"These are standard issue Hogwarts glasses," sniffed Madam Pomfrey. "If your parents can afford it and they agree, you can always send away for a pair to your liking." She looked quite disapproving at the thought. "But it seems like a waste to me."

"I'm owling Mum tonight," said Petra adamantly. "But in the meantime, can't you at least Transfigure them or something?" Petra held the glasses disdainfully by the earpiece. "These are hideous!"

"Absolutely not," said Madam Pomfrey sternly. "Transfiguration could change the lens strength. We can't have that now, can we?"

"Some school of magic this is," grumbled Petra.

"Miss Weasley, if eye problems could be easily solved with magic, do you really think wizards would continue to use glasses?" asked Madam Pomfrey.

"I'm going to ask Mum about contacts as soon as possible," Petra mumbled sullenly.

"Miss Weasley!" gasped Madam Pomfrey, outraged. "I don't care how famous your family is. Having 'contacts' isn't going to change the fact that you need glasses! Now off with you."

Petra turned her face away so that the old nurse wouldn't see her rolling her eyes. Obviously Madam Pomfrey was unaware of Muggle contact lenses or she had misunderstood Petra. She suspected it was the latter, as Madam Pomfrey had grown increasingly deaf with age. Like old nurse had said herself; there were some things even magic couldn't fix.

At least Petra had finally learned why her father had always worn that particular style of glasses. Her mum had once told her that the Weasleys were quite poor when the children were young. Petra found this hard to imagine. As long as she could remember, they had always been well off. Her uncle Ron once told her that the royalties from his action figures alone were enough to support a small country.

Petra left the infirmary to head for the library for a meeting with her Muggle Studies group. On her way in she passed Hermione who was levitating a large, dusty stack of library books before her with her wand. Hermione's bushy, brown hair was just barely visible over the stack. "Hello Aunt Hermione," said Petra hurriedly, trying to rush past her.

"Oh," said Hermione, the books wobbling precariously as she poked her nose around the stack to give Petra a friendly smile. "Hello P-petra…" Her voice died in her throat.

"I'm wearing glasses," said Petra, anticipating her next comment.

"Yes, you are," said Hermione, using her wand to guide the books over to a nearby table. The books trembled slightly under Hermione's unsteady hand. When she had set the books down, she turned slowly back to Petra, an odd, stiff smile on her face. "That's an unusual choice of style," she said, gazing at Petra curiously. "How is your hero project going, by the way?"

"What?" asked Petra, momentarily distracted by the way Hermione was staring at her with a look that was a mixture between pity and concern. "Oh! It's going fine," said Petra hesitantly, disconcerted by Hermione's manner.

Hermione suddenly pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and blew her nose loudly. "You must really feel a need to connect with him, don't you Petra?" She asked thickly.

The reason for Hermione's strange behavior dawned on Petra. "Aunt Hermione," she said, "These are standard issue Hogwarts glasses."

"Of course they are, Dear," said Hermione, patting Petra on the shoulder comfortingly. "Of course they are."

Hermione's tone infuriated Petra. "If you'll excuse me, I'm meeting with my Muggle Studies group," said Petra in the most dignified voice she could muster. She walked away, head held high. Although there was nothing she could do to stop the hot color from rising on the back of her neck. She hoped her plait covered it.

Petra approached their regular table where Damien, Gareth and Helga where sitting, heads bent over a piece of parchment. They all looked up at Petra when she slammed her school bag on the table. If she hadn't felt so annoyed at the moment she might have laughed at their identical looks of shock.

"Yes, I'm wearing glasses," said Petra through gritted teeth. "No, you may not comment on them. The first one to make a comment will find themselves in their underwear in the middle of the library." She pulled out her wand for emphasis. "And they'll be made of Moke skin too."

Damien and Gareth winced, though Helga looked confused. "Why Moke skin?" she asked, perplexed.

"Because, you twit!" said Gareth derisively, "Moke skin shrinks when a stranger approaches it. Trust me, it would hurt."

"Speaking from personal experience, Snape?" asked Damien with a grin.

"Shut up, Thomas," said Gareth, coloring slightly.

"Well, I think your glasses look kind of cool," said Helga, "in a retro sort of way."

"They're… different," offered Damien diplomatically.

"I just hope they're gone by the time the A.D. Ball comes around," said Gareth coolly.

Petra threw her hands up, exasperated. "Didn't you lot just hear my threat?"

"Forget about that," said Damien. His dark eyes were shining with excitement. "First Hogsmeade weekend tomorrow! Do you know what that means?"

"Hogsmeade, big deal," said Petra dismissively, searching through her bag for a quill. "It's just an excuse to stuff yourselves with sweets and buy silly tricks that will more than likely earn you a detention."

"Excuse me, I thought you had to be in fifth year before you made prefect," said Gareth with a sneer.

"Shut it, Snape," said Damien before turning to Petra. "It means we can get the last ingredient we need for the potion." He tapped his quill against the parchment before him. Petra reached out for the paper and saw that most of the ingredients on the list had a small check by them indicating that they had already been secured.

_Cala Lily Bloom _

_Claw of Anibus _

_Henbane _

_Dragon's Blood _

_Jobberknoll Feathers _

_Shredded Skin of Lethifold _

Petra grimaced in disgust at the last ingredient. "Can you get Lethifold skin in Hogsmeade?" she asked, almost hoping that the answer was no.

"You can if you know where to look," said Gareth darkly.

"I dunno," said Petra, biting thoughtfully on her bottom lip as she read down to the potion instructions. "We're going to have to break a lot of rules…"

Damien's eyes narrowed with suspicion. His voice became hard and derisive. "You're not backing out are you? I thought you would do _**anything**_ to speak to your father!"

"Damien," said Petra, hurt by his accusing tone. "I said I would."

"Yeah," he said angrily, "well you don't sound very convincing!" He pushed his chair back and stalked off, leaving Petra open mouthed in shock.

"Oh my," said Helga, stunned.

" I was afraid of this," said Gareth quietly.

"Afraid of what?" asked Petra.

"He can't handle it," said Gareth. "I told you this was Dark Magic. People who aren't used to practicing it sometimes get consumed by it."

Helga gasped. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Petra nodded irritably. "Of course I do! But…" she bit her lip nervously. "Maybe I should go talk to him."

Helga shook her head, eyes wide and anxious. "I dunno Petra. I have a bad feeling about this."

Petra ignored her and ducked into an aisle of bookshelves in the direction that Damien had taken. She found him standing in front of the velvet cord that roped off the restricted section from the rest of the library. He was staring dejectedly at the Necromancy books that were just out of reach.

"I'm sorry," Damien mumbled, without turning around to look at her. "I just lost my temper."

"I noticed," said Petra softly.

"It's just that I really want to do this," he said, running a hand over his close-cropped hair.

Petra glanced up at him. "You think I don't?"

"Look, I've thought about this a lot, and if we follow all of the instructions, we should be fine," said Damien with much more confidence than Petra felt. "Muggles talk to their dead as well, did you know that?" he asked abruptly. "Mediums they call them. They hold these seances and everything."

"They don't use potions that open up the spiritual reception though, do they?" asked Petra.

"No, it's mostly just a lot of trickery. You know, knocking on the table, stomping on the floor, that sort of thing," admitted Damien. "But no matter how many frauds are exposed, people still keep paying up, hoping to have some sort of contact."

"Hope is a powerful thing," whispered Petra.

"We have the opportunity to do it, to actually speak to our loved ones from beyond the grave," he placed his hands on Petra's shoulders, giving her a little shake. "I _**want**_ to do this."

"I do too," said Petra earnestly, reassured by his confidence.

Damien let go of Petra and turned away, snickering.

"What?" asked Petra, bemused.

"I can't," gasped Damien, trying to keep his voice low. "I can't look at you in those glasses."

Petra opened her mouth to give him a scathing remark, but he stopped her, putting his hand up in the air. "I'm sorry," he said quickly "And please don't make me leave the library starkers."

"Hmph," said Petra, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Come on," wheedled Damien. "I'll make it up to you."

"How?" asked Petra raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"In Hogsmeade tomorrow," replied Damien. "I'll treat you to a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks."

Petra smiled, suddenly feeling shy. "That'd be…" she stopped abruptly, slapping her hand to her forehead. "Oh! I can't! I promised Uncle George I'd go have lunch with him."

Damien looked slightly hurt. "It's all right, I guess. We can always walk down there together and don't worry, I'll get the potion ingredients for both of us."

Petra nodded distractedly, frowning in thought.

"What?" asked Damien.

"I am so _**not**_ looking forward to seeing Uncle George tomorrow," she said with a groan. "He probably just wants to help me out with my hero essay."

"Maybe he just wants to show you a new Wheeze?" said Damien helpfully.

"Maybe," said Petra, though she doubted it very much.

Petra wove her way through Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, greeting fellow students as she headed for the front of the shop. Her Uncle George was standing behind the counter beaming at her. His eyes widened in surprise as he spotted Petra's glasses.

"Not one word about the glasses!" admonished Petra. "Not one word."

"But why…"

"Not one word!" she repeated.

He shrugged. "Come on back, you," he said, pulling up the countertop so that she could duck under. Uncle George kept a flat above the store. He lived there and ran the Hogsmeade shop while his twin, Uncle Fred and his wife Angelina ran the Diagon Alley store, which was quite a bit bigger. Uncle George wasn't married, but he had dated a string of witches, mostly famous Quidditch players. His current girlfriend, Gwenog Jones, was the Captain and one of the Beaters for the Holyhead Harpies.

George waited until they were up in his flat to lift Petra up in a big bear hug. "You're getting so tall!" he said, setting her down.

Petra had grown increasingly embarrassed with her uncles' displays of affection, though she wasn't sure why. They had always doted on her. "Uncle George!" she whined, "You saw me last month. I haven't grown since then."

"I dunno," he mused, looking her up and down. "Must be the school robes." He led her over to his small kitchen table. "Glad you could spend your first Hogsmeade weekend with me Pickles."

"Petra!" she hissed through gritted teeth, scrunching her eyes closed in frustration. "My name is Petra!" She opened her eyes and saw that George was smirking in a maddening way. "What are we having for lunch?" she asked quickly, hoping to distract him from further teasing.

"Pickles," he said, affecting a serious tone. "With pickle juice and a little pickle relish on the side, maybe some pickle scones…."

"Uncle George!" screeched Petra.

They began to eat. George always set out a nice spread. Living on his own had made him an excellent cook. After a few minutes of idle chatter in which George asked Petra about schoolwork and Quidditch practice, he grew quiet and regarded Petra intently. "So," he said, taking a swig from his goblet of water, "Is it true?"

Petra set her fork down with a clatter and forced her mouthful of potatoes down her throat painfully. "Yes!" she shouted, red with fury. "It's true! I'm writing an essay about my poor, dead father! Poor, little, pathetic Petra! Boohoo!" She pushed her chair back from the table and crossed her arms defiantly. "Happy?" she asked savagely.

Petra was pleased to see that her uncle had the grace to look abashed for a moment. Until he said, "I meant, is it true that Billy Boy got his third detention?" Billy Boy was the Weasleys'nickname for Billy.

"Oh," whispered Petra as a hot blush invaded her face. She sincerely hoped her head would just pop off from the pressure.

George cleared his throat, looking thoroughly uncomfortable, yet he asked, "Is there something you'd like to talk about?"

Petra kept her eyes downcast as she pulled her chair back up to the table. She took her fork and brutally stabbed at the remains of her lunch. "No," she said sullenly.

George reached across the table and grabbed hold of her hand, staying the fork. "We're family, sweetheart. You can tell me anything."

"It's just…just…" Petra stopped, trying to control the quaver in her voice. "I am so sick of people feeling sorry for me 'cause of my dad. I don't even know who he was, so how can I miss him?" She looked up at her uncle cautiously. "Does that make me a horrible person?"

George caught her gaze and held it firmly. "No, you're not a horrible person. But your choosing him as an essay subject makes me think that you'd like to know him better."

"Of course I would," said Petra quickly. "He's my father."

"So, what do you want to know?" asked George.

"No offense," said Petra quickly, "but I can't really write an essay saying: Percy Weasley was a great brother, smart, a prefect, head boy and a good son."

"He wasn't always a good brother," countered George, matter-of-factly.

"He…wasn't?" asked Petra, stunned.

"Percy was an uptight bugger," said George. "Rules, rules, rules; he never knew when to stop."

"He had too," said Petra, mildly offended though she didn't know why. "He was a prefect."

"Not at home he wasn't. And when he became 'Bighead Boy', it was worse," said George.

"Sounds kind of like Uncle Ron now," said Petra, frowning slightly.

"Yeah," said George darkly. "The only difference is that Percy was born with a wand up his arse. Ron didn't acquire it until later in life."

"So… did you…hate him?" asked Petra with hesitation.

"Hate him?" asked George genuinely surprised. "I _**loved**_ him. He was my brother. But that doesn't mean I liked hanging around with him. Especially after he joined the Ministry."

"Why?"

"Big Company man your father," said George heatedly. "When the war started, he refused to believe it because the Ministry denied it." George looked over at Petra carefully, as though gauging her reaction before continuing.

"Go on," she prodded.

"He had a real falling out with your grandmother about it," said George slowly.

"I didn't know that," said Petra, "Grandma never told me."

"Of course she wouldn't," said George sadly. "When you lose someone you love, you always try to remember their good points, not their bad."

"But my father made up for it, right?" asked Petra, hoping her uncle wasn't done talking yet.

"He certainly did," said George with a hint of pride. "He saved a lot of lives."

"Uncle George," said Petra, cocking her head to the side inquisitively. "How did the Death Eaters capture my dad?" Petra winced as a look of pain flashed across George's face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, I just…" He chanced a glance at her. "I guess you've read all about it during your research, eh?" asked George tentatively.

"Actually, there weren't many books about him at the Hogwarts library. I had Auntie Hermione run a magical index and only three books came up."

"Is that so?" asked George, glancing guiltily to the side. Petra suddenly remembered what Coach Wood had said about Weasleys being easy to read. She was just about to press George for more information when a loud buzzer went off in the kitchen.

"Ah!" said George with relief. "My fritters!" He ran for the stove.

"Your what?" asked Petra, momentarily distracted.

"It's our latest invention," said George happily. He presented Petra with a large baking sheet of pastries. "We're almost ready to market them," said George exuberantly. "They're called Flatulent Fritters." Want to try one?" He scooped a pastry onto a spatula and pushed it towards Petra.

"Uncle George," she said severely, placing her hands on her hips. "I'm thirteen, not stupid."

He set the tray down and wiped away an imaginary tear. "Ah yes, my ickle niece is all grown up. I'll just put these away then." He turned back towards the kitchen.

"Wait!" cried Petra. "Can I have some of those for Billy?"

George was packaging the fritters when his doorbell rang. He pointed his wand at the door, which responded, "Hermione Granger-Weasley and Hillary Weasley."

"Come in!" called out George and the door swung open.

"Hello!" Hermione walked in, leading her three-year-old daughter Hillary by the hand. "Oh," she said, spotting Petra. "Hello Petra, I didn't know you were here."

"Pickles!" cried Hillary, flinging herself into Petra's arms. All of the little cousins and Petra's brother called her Pickles because they had such a hard time saying Petra. Hillary was no exception. However, Petra could hardly correct the chubby little girl with bright, red-orange curls. She was as sweet as she was cute.

"Thank you for watching her George," said Hermione, setting Hillary's backpack on the couch. "Ron was supposed to take her today and I made plans to go get fitted for robes for the A.D. Ball, but he flaked out on me at the last moment."

"Stupid git," said George, scooping up Hillary and tickling her. "What's he up to anyway?" he asked over Hillary's giggles.

"Work, I suppose," said Hermione with a glum sigh. "That's about all he does these days."

"Yeah," said Petra. "He didn't even bother to write to me about my dad for my essay."

"Speaking of which," said George, setting Hillary down and fixing Hermione with a harsh stare. "Petra says you couldn't find very much information on Percy in the school library."

"Yes, well," said Hermione, reaching up to smooth her hand over her unruly curls. "Hogwarts doesn't always have access to the newer literature."

Petra stared at her aunt who continued to fiddle nervously with her hair. "But Aunt Hermione, you said Hogwarts has the most complete magical library in all of Europe."

"Did I?" asked Hermione vaguely.

Hillary looked up at her mother. "Mummy, your face is all red."

"Is it?" asked Hermione with a nervous titter.

Hermione was a saved from further interrogation by the sound of a familiar voice coming from George's fireplace.

"Oy! George! Are you home?"

"Uncle Ron!" cried Petra, turning towards the fireplace to see her godfather's head floating above the flames.

"Daddy!" shouted Hillary, delighted.

"Hello Pumpkin," said Ron distractedly. His eyes flickered over to Hermione. "I checked at the house and didn't find you, so I thought I'd try here."

"George is going to watch her. It's just a couple of hours while I go get fitted for dress robes," said Hermione. She looked at Ron with a wistful expression. "Will you be coming to the ball?"

"The Ministry requires that we make a presence," he said in a tone that suggested he wouldn't be there if it was his choice. "Petra, do you have appropriate dress robes for this ruddy thing?"

"Yes," answered Petra. "I have a date too."

Hermione and George exchanged a quick glance before focusing on Ron, whose face seemed to have caught the flames he was floating above. "A date? Who?" demanded Ron.

"Gareth Snape, Professor Snape's son," answered Petra.

"Don't you think you're a little young to date?" snapped Ron. He didn't give Petra a chance to answer. "Oh, that's right, this is probably another one of those things that isn't my business, according to your mother."

"Daddy's on fire!" exclaimed Hillary, crouching very close to the grate as she pointed at her father who was roughly the color of an overripe tomato.

"Get away from the fire Hillary!" snarled Ron causing Hillary to retreat quickly, blinking tears away. Her lower lip trembled dangerously.

"That's right, it's not your business!" yelled Petra at her uncle's head. "You're Hillary's father, not mine, so why don't you try acting like it!"

Ron gaped like a fish out of water for several seconds before he shouted, "I will _**not**_ be talked to in that tone, young lady!"

"That's your problem, isn't it? You won't talk to anyone at all!" She turned away from the fire to grab her bag of Flatulent Fritters off of the table. "I'm leaving," she exclaimed. Petra quickly kissed her uncle George and Hillary, then gave Hermione a quick hug. "See you back at the castle," she muttered.

As Petra slammed the door of the little flat, she could still hear her godfather calling out, "Petra, wait!" But she didn't stop until she reached the castle and went up to Gryffindor Tower, which took a short time considering her long, furious steps.

Billy was sitting in a corner of the common room, playing Exploding Snap with Colin Snape, Gareth's little brother and Billy's dorm mate.

"Back already?" asked Billy, chancing a glance up from his game. "Ergh! You know you really should do something about those glasses, cousin," he said with a grimace. "What kind of statement are you trying to make with those anyway?"

"That she wasn't smart enough for Ravenclaw, but she'll try the look anyway," piped up Colin.

Petra made a rather unlady-like gesture at them, which caused them to stare at her in disbelief. "How very rude," said Colin with a smirk.

"Come on Petra! Tell us all about your first Hogsmeade weekend," said Billy. "Did you bring me anything?"

"Why would I…" began Petra before she remembered the small parcel clutched in her hand. "As a matter of fact, I did," said Petra kindly.

"Are you serious?" asked Billy, ignoring his game completely. "All right, let's see it then," he said eagerly.

Petra watched them down the pastries eagerly as though they hadn't had lunch less than two hours ago.

"Thanks Petra," said Colin thickly through a mouthful of fritter.

"You're all right," said Billy, licking glaze off of his fingers.

"Cheers," replied Petra.

A/N2:

_Will Hermione explain the lack of Percy books in the Hogwarts library?_

_Will Ron stop acting like he has a wand up his arse?_

_And speaking of arses, did Colin and Billy set any world records that day?_

_For answers to all these questions... tune in for the next installment of ... Searching for Percy...(or As the Wand Turns…)_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 – Four Owls, A Thousand Miles**

_If I could fall  
Into the sky  
Do you think time  
Would pass us by  
'Cause you know I'd walk  
a__ thousand miles if I could just  
__See you…tonight_

_**Vanessa Carlton, A Thousand Miles**_

_**A/N: A big thanks to my beta Z, she ROX's! Also to my British beta Soupytwist (she really makes me a better writer). I borrowed heavily from "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" for this. The Lethifold description is directly from there. You'll find one quote from "The Wizard of Oz" and one from Disney's "The Emporer's New Groove". Professor Longbottom's affinity for sugar quills is a nod to Circee's excellent fic, "With Quill in Trembling Hand". If you have not read that fic, go do so now (wait! write a review first! hehe). It is a classic and a guaranteed tearjerker! Oh yes, Petra's family owl, Thor got a sex change: he is now Thora. Hildigunner knows why! Enjoy!**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

Petra received several owls over the following week. The first one was from her uncle George.

_Dear Pickles (just kidding!)_

_I can't thank you enough for the publicity you've given us on the Flatulent Fritters! The orders have started pouring in since you gave them to Billy Boy and the Snape kid. That was a stroke of genius, that was! We can barely keep up with the orders. We've come up with a slogan for them too. Flatulent Fritters: they're a real gas! What do you think? Just a note of _warning though. Billy Boy is out for your blood, so watch your back!

_Your Favorite Uncle_

_George_

Petra hardly needed George's warning about Billy. She had been careful to avoid Billy as much as possible after the Fritter Incident. Not that he could do much to her with the threat of Beauxbatons over his head, but he had been shooting death glares at her for days. Petra had received a detention out of it from Professor Longbottom. It seemed that the first year Gryffindor boys' dormitory had been in an absolute uproar after Billy and Colin had eaten the fritters. Apparently, not only did eating the fritters cause the person to emit explosive, foul smelling gasses, they also propelled the eater forward with each blast. The results were that the boys' dorm had had to be evacuated due to the smell and the destruction that Colin and Billy had caused from flying about the room. When Professor Longbottom had gone up to the dorm to see what all the noise was about, Colin had immediately blamed Petra. Longbottom asked to see her in his office the next morning.

"Good morning, Miss Weasley," said Longbottom cordially. "Please have a seat." It was the first time she had ever been in Professor Longbottom's office. She took a seat and looked about the small, cozy room filled with various magical plants. Petra noticed a large jar of sugar quills on a corner of his desk.

"Would you like one?" he asked, tipping the jar towards her. She shook her head politely. "Mind if I do?" Again, Petra shook her head. "I find sugar quills to be most comforting so I always keep a supply on my desk." He placed the tip of the quill in his mouth and closed his eyes briefly. "They're my favorite," he declared, laying the candy aside. He looked at Petra suddenly as though he had forgotten she was there. "Oh! Now, why are you here again, Miss Weasley?"

"You asked me to come because of the incident with my cousin Billy," Petra reminded him.

"Ah yes, the Flatulent Fritters." He looked at Petra sternly, yet his eyes retained an amused spark. "Now, I'm going to assume that you got this treat from your uncles' shop in Hogsmeade, yes?"

"Yes sir."

"I've been a victim of your uncles' pranks myself so I know that the affects of the treats are usually temporary and generally harmless. However, the fact remains that there was quite a bit of damage done to the first-year boys' dorm. The house-elves had to work overtime to clean it up and elf wages being what they are, this whole incident was quite expensive. Do you understand?"

Petra nodded guiltily.

"You will be serving a detention with Professor Snape tonight. He just received a shipment of Streeler venom and needs assistance bottling it. You are to report to the dungeons at eight o'clock tonight. That is all." Petra got up and turned to go. She stopped suddenly as Professor Longbottom called out, "Oh, and Petra, since you're doing so well in your studies, I don't think this incident warrants a letter to your mum. Although, I'm sure your uncles would be quite pleased to hear about it."

Petra smiled.

She was not smiling during detention with Snape however. It wasn't so much that he was in a foul mood, although he was. He started off the night with an admonishment to Petra.

"Miss Weasley, in the future, I would appreciate it if you did not engage Colin in your silly pranks, especially if they involve any of your uncles' ridiculous concoctions."

No, Snape's sarcastic comment was not what bothered her the most about the detention. It was the fact that bottling Streeler venom was nasty, slimy, tedious work. After her second hour of handling the little slug-like creatures, Petra could hardly keep her eyes open, she was so bored. Professor Snape must have taken pity on her because he came over to help her as she started on her third batch.

"Almost there, Miss Weasley," he said in a much gentler voice than the one he used in the classroom.

"Yes," she answered, struck by the strangeness of working with Snape side by side.

"You may leave after we finish this batch." Snape looked at her as he extracted the Streeler venom. "You seem tired," he observed.

Petra panicked, knowing that her tiredness was a result of the potion preparation. "Classes are very challenging this year, sir. I've been staying up late with all my extra studying. Especially with my hero essay." That was almost true.

"Indeed?" asked Snape with raised eyebrow. "And which one of your illustrious uncles have you chosen to write about?"

Petra looked up at him, wondering if he was being sarcastic. It was hard to tell with Snape sometimes. "I didn't choose any of my uncles. I chose my father."

They worked in silence for several seconds before Snape answered, "He was a good man, your father. I worked with him in the Order. Very brave."

"P-professor Snape," Petra began. "May I ask you a question?"

"You may," answered Snape curtly. "However I cannot guarantee that I'll answer it. You must understand that for those of us that were in the war, it isn't something that most of us like to think about. In reality, some of us spend half a lifetime trying to forget."

The question 'how did my father die?' dried up in Petra's throat. She cast about quickly for a question, any question, to ask. "Was my father good at Potions?"

Snape looked quite relieved. He flashed Petra one of his rare grins. "Excellent."

The second owl was from her mum and came with their family owl, Thora.

_Dear Petra._

_I couldn't send Hermes as he's been a bit under the weather. Don't worry, I'm sure he'll be fine soon. I received an owl from your uncle Ron recently. It seems that you two had an argument of sorts at George's. While I agree with you that it's none of his business whether you have a partner for the ball or not, (Gareth Snape?!) it is not okay for you to talk back to your elders. That is not how I raised you! Your uncle feels badly about your argument. I know it's hard to get along with him these days. But believe me, he really loves you._

_I've ordered your contact lenses and I should be sending them to you by the end of the week. Dave and the kids say hello. Take care darling._

_Love, _

_Mum_

Petra was most grateful to hear about the contact lenses. She had gotten many rude comments about her glasses. Damien's comments were the hardest to bear. She couldn't help feeling annoyed with herself for being hurt by his teasing. It was just Damien after all. They had been friends for as long as Petra could remember. These days, however, the preparation of the _Vox de Morte_ potion was wearing her nerves thin in every way. Gareth, Petra and Damien had taken to meeting in the broom shed every day after Petra's Quidditch practice. The cauldron in which they were preparing the potion was hidden away in Petra's locker, simmering over a self-contained, smokeless fire. The Lethifold skin had to be stewed for a week to make it edible. Petra shuddered every time she had to stir the potion. Only the thought of speaking to her father resolved her to drinking such a foul concoction. She started having nightmares as well. In her dream she was running through a great, stone maze. She was desperate to get to the end because her father was waiting there. However, she kept running into dead ends. It seemed like she had run a thousand miles, but she still couldn't get to him. Petra always awoke from these dreams drenched in sweat and cold with fear.

Damien was growing increasingly agitated as well. Some of his comments about her glasses bordered on rude. In private, Gareth and Petra worried about Damien. He was obsessed with the making of the potion, checking on it every chance he got. Dark circles formed under his brown eyes from sneaking out of his dorm late at night to check on it as well. When Petra voiced her concern, Damien turned on Petra angrily saying he was descended from the great Seer Parvati, and surely if he was in danger, he would've sensed it. Besides, he had already consulted the Orb about it and it had foretold his success. Petra and Gareth exchanged worried looks behind his back. Petra had not taken Divination, having chosen Arithmancy instead, but even she knew that it was generally not advised to consult the Orb for yourself. With a very heavy heart, Petra continued, figuring that if she could at least get some answers from her dad, it would all be worth it.

Petra's feelings about the potion took a turn for the worse during her first Defense Against the Dark Arts class that week. Petra had just slid into her usual seat when Professor Lupin announced that they would be having a guest speaker. Everyone looked up, interested. Although Professor Lupin was an excellent instructor, having a speaker was always a welcome change of pace.

"Our guest will be arriving shortly," said Lupin, rubbing his hands together as he gazed around the class. "We're in for a real treat, ladies and gentleman." He turned to the covered holding tank behind him and yanked off the sheet that was hiding it from view. "The next dark creature that we'll be studying is the Lethifold."

"That's our treat?" asked Mauve, who was sitting beside Petra. The class laughed nervously at Mauve's question as they gazed upon the large, dark cloak-like creature in the containment.

Lupin smiled indulgently at Mauve. "No, Ms. Finnigan, this is most definitely not your treat. But our speaker is. He will be teaching us the most effective way to fight off the Lethifold." He circled the holding tank as he lectured. "The Lethifold is a mercifully rare creature found solely in the tropics. As you can see, it resembles a black cloak perhaps half an inch thick, although it would be quite a bit thicker if it had recently killed and digested a victim." Several people shuddered. "Now, who can tell me what is the only spell known to repel a Lethifold?"

Few people raised their hands among them Petra. Lupin smiled kindly at her. "Miss Weasley?"

"The _Patronus_ Charm," answered Petra.

"Correct," said Lupin. "Five points for Gryffindor. Now the _Patronus_ Charm was used extensively in the late nineties when Dementors were still in existence. Does anyone know why this might be?"

"Because," said Keith McAllister, "Dementors were demons who used the Lethifold as a shroud."

"Excellent," beamed Lupin. "Another five points. Yes, Dementors were derived from the Lethifold: as such, the _Patronus_ worked on them as well. Of course, Dementors are no longer in existence having been destroyed after the war. However the Lethifold is and it is commonly used as a substance in various potions, many of them Dark in nature."

Petra shifted guiltily in her seat.

"For this reason," continued Lupin, "It is important to learn the _Patronus_ Charm as a precaution. Our guest today is considered an expert at the _Patronus_ Charm as well as other things." Lupin glanced at Petra briefly. "He may be quite familiar to some of you."

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Lupin pulled the door open and announced, "Class, may I introduce our very special guest lecturer, Mr. Harry Potter."

Petra was surprised, yet pleased to see her uncle Harry. It turned out that he would be staying at the castle for a few days to demonstrate the _Patronus_ to several of Professor Lupin's classes. Petra was very fond of Harry, who was married to their aunt Ginny. He was a favorite among all of the Weasley nieces and nephews. He was a retired Quidditch player who had once played Seeker for the Chudley Cannons shortly after the war. Now he worked at home, writing children's stories. His tales of magical adventures were famous all over the globe. He even had a following in the Muggle world, although his stories were considered fairy tale there of course. Aunt Ginny was a racing broom charmer for Firebolt Unlimited. The Potters had five children: Lance, the oldest, was seven. Three girls followed him: six-year-old Rose, four-year-old Daisy, and two-year-old Heather. Daniel, the baby, was only seven months. They lived in the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, close to the Burrow. The fact that Harry was a stay-at-home dad was something that his brother-in-laws often teased him about. Harry, however, didn't seem to mind.

It was nice to see uncle Harry at the staff table during meals. He was always chatting with Aunt Hermione and the other teachers. In between classes, Harry took the time to seek out Billy and Petra to ask how their school year was going. He even came out to watch one of Petra's Inter-house practice sessions with Oliver Wood. Apparently, Harry could sympathize very much with Petra about Wood's vigorous training sessions.

Uncle Harry brought Petra a gift. It was an old newspaper clipping from the _Daily_ _Profit_. The clipping contained an article about her grandfather Weasley winning the newspaper's Grand Prize Galleon Draw. It also showed a photograph of the whole Weasley family; her grandparents, her father, five uncles and aunt Ginny. Her father looked quite smug in the picture with his head boy badge glinting in the photographic sun. Petra thought the clipping must be falling apart with age because there was a tiny tear in the picture, right above her uncle Ron's shoulder. Uncle Harry also talked to Petra briefly about her essay, mostly reiterating what the rest of the Weasleys had said. However, he said something that stuck in Petra's mind.

"You know Petra, I know exactly how you feel about your Dad. I grew up without my parents, you know. But a wise man once told me that the dead we loved never truly leave us. We recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble. He also said that my father was alive in me and showed himself plainly when I had need of him."

"Was he right?" asked Petra.

"Always," said Harry with conviction.

The third owl came a few days later bearing a large, gift-wrapped parcel. There was a note in her uncle Ron's hand on top of the package which warned her not to open the gift until she was in her dorm. When Petra opened the package, she gasped in shock.

_Dear Petra,  
I wanted to apologize for our little argument. It's difficult for me to accept that you're growing up so fast. Although I still think you're a bit young for dating (Gareth Snape?!!),_ _I'm sorry I reacted so badly. Please accept this gift as an apology. I always wanted one when I was young. Your uncle Harry had one though, and we had a lot of fun with it. Not that I'm encouraging any rule-breaking with it, mind you! Just thought it might be nice for you to have one. Please forgive me Petra._

_Uncle Ron_

Petra marveled at the cool, fluid material of the Invisibility Cloak. Although she knew that her uncle could afford it, it was still an extravagant gift. Not only were the cloaks expensive, they were quite rare as well. She laid the cloak in her trunk, confused by her uncle's behavior. Torn between admiration and exasperation, she slammed the lid on the trunk and forgot about it.

The fourth owl was from her mum again. Petra was studying in the Gryffindor common room when it arrived. She spotted Hermes fluttering outside a window and let him in immediately.

"Finally!" exclaimed Petra as Hermes swooped in with a small box clutched in his claws, "My contacts!" She sighed with relief practically wanting to tear her glass off then and there. However, before she could reach the owl to untie the package, it began to falter, growing weaker and weaker under the burden of its tiny package. It finally stopped in midair and spiraled down towards a table where a group of first years were working on their Charms homework. It landed in front of Billy.

"Oh Hermes!" cried Petra, exasperated. She moved towards the first years' table, but before she could reach it, Billy snatched the small package from Hermes' claws. The color drained from Petra's face at Billy's smirk as he tossed the package up and down in one hand.

"So," he said, drawing out the word. "What's this, cousin?"

Petra tried her best to act casual. "Oh those are just my contact lenses I expect."

Billy's smirk widened into a full-blown evil grin. "So you can stop wearing those glasses now, huh?"

"I suppose," said Petra with a dismissive shrug. "So, uh…can I have them now?"

"Hmmm…" Billy scrunched up his brow as if deep in thought. "I dunno," he said slowly, "I've grown quite fond of the glasses. Perhaps you should wear them for another week."

"What?" asked Petra going pale again.

"Yes, a week sounds right to me," piped Colin who was also sitting at the table. Billy tucked the little box into his pocket.

Petra saw red. "William Albus Weasley, you give me that package **now**!"

"Come and get it!"

Petra's wand lay forgotten on the table as she chased Billy around the common room, knocking books off tables and upsetting chairs. Colin and the rest of the first year boys cheered Billy on. Billy made for the boys' staircase.

"I'm going to kill you!" screamed Petra in frustration, although she managed to block his path off before he made it to the stairs.

"Uh, uh, uh," said Billy maddeningly as he stumbled towards the portrait hole. "You'll never make prefect that way cousin."

Petra scrambled out of the common room after him, heedless of the fact that they were out after hours. Her frustration grew as she chased him down staircases and empty corridors. By some brilliant stroke of luck they did not run into anybody.

"You heartless bastard!" cried Petra as Billy ducked out of her reach. He stuck his tongue out and ducked into a room slamming the door in her face. Petra pushed the door open and followed him through. "I hate you!"

"Ah!" said Billy sarcastically, clutching at his chest. "Now I know I have a heart, 'cause it's breaking."

"Wait!" Petra stopped abruptly, looking around the room. Billy froze. They were in a large paneled room filled with dark, wooden chairs. Petra's heart sank all the way down to her toes. "You great, stupid prat! Do you realize what room we're in?" she asked shrilly.

Billy took a quick look around the room before he turned back to Petra, his eyes wide with horror. "The staff room!" he croaked.

"I can't _**believe**_ you made me run in here!" moaned Petra.

"Me?" asked Billy, his voice squeaking with indignation. "You're the one that made me eat those ruddy Farty Fritters!"

"I didn't make you do anything," spat Petra. "You ate them of your own accord."

"I trusted you," Billy whined.

Petra crossed her arms over her chest. "Well that makes you ugly and _stupid._"

Billy's face turned much darker than his strawberry blond hair. He opened and closed his mouth several times, apparently too furious to think of an answer.

"Shut up!" Petra cut him off. "Now give me my package so we can get out of here before we get in trouble."

No sooner were the words out of her mouth when they heard the doorknob rattle.

"Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!" whispered Petra.

Billy looked so alarmed that even his hair seemed to be standing on end. "The wardrobe!" he hissed, grabbing Petra's arm and dragging her towards the large wardrobe where the teachers kept their cloaks. They squeezed in and shut the door, peeking through the slots. Billy barely suppressed a groan as their uncle Harry and aunt Hermione walked in and flung themselves into two armchairs by the fireplace.

"It's great to be back, isn't it?" they heard Harry ask as he leaned back in his chair.

Hermione looked tense despite the smile she flashed at Harry. "You could make this a full-time deal you know. Just say the word and McGonagall would give you a position in a heartbeat."

"Nah," said Harry with a contented grin. "I like staying at home with the sproglets. That's why Ginny's the one working the full time."

Hermione shook her head admiringly. "I can't believe you lot have five children! Honestly Harry, don't you two know about the _Contraceptus_ Charm?"

Petra felt Billy writhing with embarrassment next to her in the closet. She couldn't blame them. It was deeply disturbing to think about old people and sex.

"Ginny and I always wanted a big family. Besides," he said with a fond smile, "I love being a dad."

Hermione flinched. "I wish Ron did," she said in a quavering voice.

"Hermione, no matter what happened between you two, Ron loves Hillary..."

She leaned forward suddenly, choking on a sob.

"Hermione!" said Harry with concern. He patted her hand. "What happened Hermione? I've never asked about your break up because it's not my place. But I'm your best friend and Ron's and you know you can count on me for anything."

Hermione nodded, sniffling. "Penny knows about it. But Ron didn't want anybody else in the family to know and that includes you." Harry nodded sympathetically. "But I just can't bear it anymore Harry, I just can't!"

Harry squeezed her hand gently. "Tell me," he said.

"It started three years ago. Just after Hillary was born. You know, when the Ministry released the War Files and we found out about Percy."

Petra tensed at the sound of her father's name.

"I knew he took it hard," said Harry, "but I thought he had dealt with it like the rest of us. It was Percy's choice after all."

Hermione sighed heavily. "I thought he was finally over it as well until Hillary was born." She wiped at her tears haphazardly. "Harry, it was like he couldn't enjoy her because Percy didn't get a chance to enjoy Petra. He said it wasn't fair that he had everything Percy had ever wanted: fame, the high-ranking position in the Ministry, money and now even a little girl."

Petra slid silently to the bottom of the closet, too shocked to care whether they heard the thump as she sat down. They didn't.

"But…but that's irrational!" stammered Harry.

"Exactly! That's why I asked him to leave. I love Petra very much, but Hillary deserved Ron's attention as well."

"Of course," murmured Harry.

Hermione drew a handkerchief from her pocket and blew her nose. "And I couldn't talk to anyone about it besides Penny. Can you imagine how much this would hurt Molly, to bring all of that back?"

Harry straightened up in his chair. "You could've talked to me. I would've tried to reason with him."

"Heavens no!" exclaimed Hermione. "He's still in denial about the whole thing. You know that he's forbidden everyone in the family from talking to Petra about Percy's death. He said as Petra's godfather it's his place to do it, but he wants to wait until he thinks she can handle it."

"At this rate, she won't know until she's fifty!" said Harry.

"I know," responded Hermione, chewing nervously on her bottom lip. "And so help me, I promised him I wouldn't talk to Petra about it either. I've even lied to her about having books on Percy in the school library."

"This is ridiculous!" exclaimed Harry, running his hand helplessly through his black hair. "It can't go on like this forever."

"No it can't," agreed Hermione. "Because Penny is fed up and she's given him an ultimatum; he has to tell Petra soon or she will."

"Do you think he will?" asked Harry hopefully.

Hermione cocked her head to the side, eyes awash with fresh tears. "I don't know."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 – Parvati's Fate**

_If you're lost you can look  
and you will find me  
Time after time  
If you fall I will catch you,  
I will be waiting  
Time after time_

_Cyndi_ _Lauper, __**Time After Time**_

_A/N: There's a line in here from Disney's "Tarzan". Also, if you have read my other story, "Padma's Quest" it would give you a hint of the Parvati's end in this fic. Not that I'm plugging or anything, no, I am! A great, big thanks to Zsenya and Soupytwist for beta-ing. They're awesome! _

Billy pushed on the inside of the cupboard door and tumbled out, stretching and groaning. "Damn! Who knew Aunt Hermione and Uncle Harry could talk so long, eh Petra?…Petra?"

Petra emerged from the cupboard and fixed Billy with a hard stare. "What do you know about my father?" she demanded.

Billy's blue eyes widened with uncertainty. "I know about as much as you do, I reckon."

Petra got up very close to Billy. She was at least a head taller than him and he had to lean his head back to look her in the eye. "How. Did. He. Die?"

"Death Eaters killed him!" said Billy, his voice sounding high and panicky.

"Why?" asked Petra, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him roughly. His reddish-blond hair flopped in his eyes.

"W-what do you mean, 'why'?" asked Billy through rattling teeth. "He was in the Order! What other excuse did they need?"

Petra let go of him, pushing him back in her frustration. Billy winced as he hit the wall. "I'm not lying Petra. That's all I know. I can ask Dad again though. He might be able to tell us more."

"Don't bother," said Petra coldly as she made her way out of the staff room. "I'm going to find out myself. Tonight."

Billy trailed behind her, struggling to keep up with Petra's long, purposeful strides. "Look Petra, I know you're upset about what you heard in there…"

"Don't worry about it," she cut him off, answering in monotone.

"What are you going to do?"

"None of your business."

"Are you going to write to Uncle Ron?"

"No."

"Are you going to talk to Aunt Hermione?"

"No."

"Where are you going?"

"Go away, Billy!"

Billy hung back for a few seconds, digging into the pocket of his robes. Petra heard his steps quicken as he ran to catch up to her again. "Here's your contact lenses," he said, holding out a tiny package. "Sorry I was such a prat."

Petra paused to look at the package in his hand. "Keep them," she said dully.

Billy gaped at her, his eyes round with shock. "But I…I thought you hated your glasses."

"There are worse things than wearing glasses. Like…" her voice broke and she clenched her eyes tightly, willing herself to take control, "like knowing that you're responsible for breaking up someone's marriage…"

"Petra…" began Billy, his voice filled with pity.

"Leave me alone!" she hissed, batting the box out of Billy's hand and resuming her walk.

For several minutes, the only sounds Petra heard were her own hollow footsteps and the pounding of her heart. _Good_, she thought as she approached the corridor that led to the staircase up to Gryffindor Tower, _perhaps he finally got the message_.

Petra had just about reached the staircase when Billy ran up, grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her through a nearby tapestry. "What the…"

"Ssh!" Billy cut her off. "I think I heard Malfoy," he whispered.

Petra's blood turned to ice as she heard the sounds of footsteps coming up the corridor. If Malfoy caught them out of their dorm after hours, they would certainly be stuck in detention for the rest of the school year.

Draco Malfoy was the school caretaker. Rumor had it that Malfoy had come from an old, rich, wizarding family who lost everything in the war due to their involvement with the Dark Side. It was said that Malfoy's own father had stripped him of his magical ability after he failed to complete an important Death Eater assignment.

After the war, Malfoy had managed to avoid a prison sentence by implicating many of Voldemort's followers. Penniless, friendless and helpless as a Muggle, he had pleaded with Professor McGonagall to give him a position at Hogwarts. When the old caretaker retired, Malfoy replaced him. He spent his days and most of his nights roaming the castle, giving students detention for the slightest infractions. He was always accompanied by his foul, flat-faced cat, Miss P. Some people said Miss P was a botched Animagus who had once been Malfoy's girlfriend, but for all Petra knew, that was just another outrageous rumor. The one thing that was certain was that Malfoy had a special dislike of Petra and Billy, although why, they couldn't say.

Petra and Billy stood, still as statues, peeking out from behind the tapestry into the semi-darkness of the dimly lit corridor. They watched in silence as Malfoy skulked by, muttering to his dun colored cat. "I was sure I heard voices this way, Miss P."

The flat-faced cat let out a loud, accusatory 'meow' in the direction of Billy and Petra.

Petra held her breath as Malfoy turned towards the tapestry. Just as he reached out to pull it aside a loud, long 'creak' rent the air. It came from somewhere downstairs.

Malfoy dropped his hand immediately. "The front door, my princess!" he said excitedly to his cat. He turned and fled back down the corridor, presumably towards the great, oak front doors of the Entrance Hall.

After the sound of Malfoy's footsteps receded, Petra heaved a great, shuddering sigh of relief. "That was so close! Billy, you saved my arse! And…" she paused, regarding him sheepishly, "and after I was so nasty to you too."

Even in the semi-darkness, Petra could see Billy's ears glowing. "It was no big deal."

"Yes it was," countered Petra. "It's not your fault the rest of our family lies to me. That's why I have to…"

"Yes?" interrupted Billy eagerly.

"None of your business!" snapped Petra.

"Come on Petra! Whatever you're going to do, I'll help you."

Petra raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And why would you do that?"

Billy gave her an outraged look. "Why would I do that?" he asked, his voice rising and squeaking indignantly. He held up his hand before Petra could respond. "No, never mind. I've had it with you and your emotional constipation!" Petra's mouth fell open as she listened to Billy's tirade. "We are _family_, Petra. Families help each other out. Sometimes they even l-l-l…" Billy faltered.

Petra smiled softly at his inability to say the word. "Love each other?" she suggested.

"Yes!" said Billy, relieved. "_That_ word." He shuddered. "Only don't make me say it again. The point is, you're like the older sister I never wanted." He ducked Petra's half-hearted punch. "I know you're upset by what you heard tonight. I am too. You deserve some answers and I'll do anything I can to help you."

Petra considered his offer carefully. She really could use his help. "Okay," she said finally. "I think I can use your help. Only I have a couple of conditions. First, what I'm about to do is a bit dangerous, not to mention highly against school rules. I want you to be my look out, but that's it. Second, I don't want any unsolicited comments and or questions, got that?"

He bowed deeply. "Yes, your heiny." This time he wasn't fast enough to duck her punch. "Ouch!"

"Now," said Petra in a business-like manner. "To ensure we don't have any more close calls with Malfoy, there's something I need to get from my room…"

Petra returned to the Gryffindor common room where Billy was waiting and unfolded the large, shimmering cloak before him.

"An Invisibility Cloak? Wicked!" He ran his hand over the cool, fluid material "Where'd you get this?"

"Uncle Ron," stated Petra simply.

Billy frowned. "For the record, I'd like to point out that all I got for Christmas from Uncle Ron was a bag of dung bombs and one of his smarmy, little action figures."

"Unsolicited comment."

"Shutting up."

"Let's go."

Petra and Billy walked slowly under the Invisibility Cloak, making their way towards the Entrance Hall. When they reached the Charms corridor, they froze at the sound of sudden footsteps. As the footsteps sounded as though they were coming closer, they pressed themselves up against the wall, waiting for the person to pass.  
"Please don't let it be Malfoy. Please don't let it be Malfoy," whispered Billy in a trembling voice.

"Shut up!" hissed Petra.

Petra gasped as the person finally came into view. It wasn't Malfoy. "Damien!" she cried, barely managing to keep her voice down.

The sound of Petra's disembodied voice startled Damien so badly that he dropped a vial full of black liquid that he had been holding. It landed on the floor with a series of loud 'clanks!' It had obviously been charmed to be shatterproof because it stayed intact although the fall must have loosened the stopper because a few drops of liquid dripped out of the top. The liquid hissed and steamed as it hit the cold, stone floor.

Petra pulled the Invisibility Cloak off of herself and Billy.

"Petra," croaked Damien weakly. "What are you doing here? It's almost midnight."

"No," said Petra, stooping down to pick up the vial. "The question is: what are **you** doing here?" She shook the little bottle of potion in Damien's face. "Is this what I think it is?"

Billy's gaze shifted between Petra and Damien. Damien opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He dropped his face guiltily, his shoulders falling in defeat. He nodded slowly. "It's **the** potion."

Petra was so furious she couldn't even form a coherent sentence. "You! You were going to…without even…!" She clutched the bottle tightly.

"What's going on?" asked Billy, eyeing them curiously.

Damien hesitated, looking at Billy before turning an imploring gaze on Petra. "The potion was ready tonight and I…I couldn't wait any longer. I have to speak to her. I didn't take all of it. There's still enough for you in the cauldron. But I couldn't wait any longer. It's like I have this big hole inside of me, tearing me up and I want to know more about her, now! I want to thank her for saving my dad's life. You understand, don't you Petra?"

Petra swallowed guiltily, thinking about where she had been heading before running into Damien. "I understand, Damien. I was…on my way to the broom shed as well."

"You would've done it without me?" asked Damien indignantly.

"You were going to!" Petra shot back.

Damien's mouth twisted into a wry grin. "Point taken."

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?" asked Billy.

"No," snapped Petra.

"He doesn't know?" asked Damien.

"No," answered Petra. "I was just bringing him as a look-out." She cocked her head to the side thoughtfully. "I think you should try the potion first, since you need to take it in the castle. When you're done, we can head out to the broom shed.

Damien looked at Billy. "What about him?"

Billy squirmed under Petra's contemplative look. "I think I know a way that he can still be useful to us," she said.

Petra and Damien peeked out from under the Invisibility Cloak as they watched Billy pull on the bell cord that rang the door the Professor Trelawney's North Tower room. Professor Trelawney's sleeping quarters were adjacent to her classroom.

After his fifth time pulling on the bell cord, Billy turned back in the direction of Petra and Damien and shrugged. "I don't think she's going to answer," he said.

No sooner were the words out of his mouth, than the trap door above him burst open, and a very irritated Professor Trelawney climbed down a silvery ladder. Trelawney was wearing a long, fuzzy bathrobe and a disapproving frown.

"Who are you and what do you mean, coming here at this hour?"

Under the Invisibility Cloak, Petra mouthed the words as Billy said them, praying that he could remember them as they had practiced.

"Professor Trelawney! Thank goodness you were awake. Well, of course you were, you must have been expecting me." Billy grabbed the professor's spindly hand and pumped it up and down.

"I…I…" said Trelawney, taken aback.

"I'm Billy Weasley, but you knew that," said Billy with a roguish wink. "I came up here because I just got something in my Inner Eye!" He clutched at the middle of his forehead. "And boy, does it hurt!"

"What is it, my dear?" asked Trelawney eagerly. "Death? Destruction? The end of the wizarding world as we know it?"

"That's just it!" exclaimed Billy. "I'm just a first year, so I've never been trained in the noble art of Divination. But I know a vision when I See one. That's why I came here for your help." He clutched at her hand, his pale, blue eyes widening imploringly. "You will help me, won't you Professor Trelawney?"

"Of course I will, dear," she said benevolently. "Let's step into my classroom, and I can help you sort it all out."

"No! You see, my psychic resonance is so much stronger on a full stomach. If we could just go down to the kitchens, I'm sure the house-elves would be kind enough to make us some sandwiches. Besides," Billy lowered his voice and looked about, "that's what my Vision was about."

"Sandwiches?" asked Professor Trelawney, her eyes narrowing slightly behind her oversized glasses.

Under the Invisibility Cloak, Petra shook with silent laughter. Damien elbowed her in the ribs to keep her quiet.

"No, the house-elves!" said Billy. "I Saw them going on strike during the A.D. Ball. Utter chaos followed!"

"Do tell!" said Trelawney, already starting to walk away from the shimmering ladder.

The minute Trelawney and Billy were out of earshot, Damien and Petra climbed the ladder up to the Divination classroom. Petra took a few seconds to orient herself with the dark, stuffy room crowded with small tables, chairs and poufs. Damien seated himself at a table in the center of the room.

"Okay," he said, rubbing his hands together, "the deal is Billy keeps Trelawney busy for an hour. I take the potion, you watch the clock and make sure we're out of here on time."

Petra nodded. "We better start then." She watched Damien place the bottle of Vox de Morte potion on the table along with his aunt Parvati's crystal ball. "Why do you need her crystal ball?"

"Some of my research indicated that personal possessions of the deceased are a strong lure for them." He uncorked the vial of potion and gave Petra a small, nervous smile. "Here we go."

Petra watched Damien's face intently as he swallowed the potion. He shuddered as he placed the bottle down, swiping his hand across his mouth. "Do you feel anything?" she asked anxiously.

Damien blinked rapidly. His teeth rattled as he spoke. "Cold. I feel very, very cold."

Petra glanced about nervously. Despite the fact that she had not taken the potion herself, she felt a strange shift in the room temperature as well. "I feel something too," she whispered eagerly. She didn't know why she was whispering, only that it seemed appropriate for the situation.

"Muggles hold hands when they do séances," said Damien hesitantly, "perhaps there's something too it." He reached out across the table.

Petra slid her hand into his larger one and interlaced her fingers with his. His hand felt like ice. She looked at him with concern as he continued to tremble uncontrollably. He didn't notice because he was staring intently at a spot above the crystal ball, a slow grin making its way over his face. "I see something! Do you see her Petra? Do you see her?"

"I…" Petra saw something, but it could hardly be classified as a person. It was more like a luminescent cloud of steam hovering over the crystal ball.

Apparently Damien was having more success because he cried out, "She's beautiful! She looks just like my mum. Do you see her now Petra?"

Petra tilted her head to the side, concentrating hard. To her surprise she found that she could just make out a series of features; a pair of large, dark eyes, very similar to Damien's, long, black hair braided into a thick plait, soft, flowing robes of an indescribable color. These features did not settle into a face or a person, they simply swirled about in the bright mist making Petra wonder if she'd really seen them at all.

"She's trying to speak, I think," whispered Damien, his voice hushed and reverent. "Can you hear her Petra?" He didn't take his eyes off of the vision as he spoke.

Petra shook her head. She screwed her eyes up tight, straining to hear something, anything, but she didn't. She tightened her hold on Damien's hand, as he was shaking more violently, his hand feeling even colder than when she'd first touched it, when she heard it; a young woman's voice. The voice sounded soft and far away, as though she were speaking across a great distance. "What's happening?" she asked, sounding a bit disoriented.

"P-p-parvati Patil?" asked Damien, his teeth chattering harshly.

"I know who I am," snapped the voice peevishly, "Who are you? And why did you summon me here? I was just about to have a cuppa with Rita Skeeter when I was so rudely interrupted! Rita said she had some lovely new gossip for me!" Petra felt slightly taken aback at the obvious annoyance in the woman's voice.

Damien didn't seem to notice. "I'm Damien Thomas. I…I'm your…nephew."

Petra saw the dark eyes in the mist fall sadly. When Parvati answered, her voice sounded even farther away. "You're Padma's boy? What are you doing here? Why do you summon me?"

Damien's grin faltered slightly. "I wanted to meet you. Mum never told me about you. I always wondered why she seemed so sad sometimes though. Dad finally told me about you and how you saved his life. I wanted to know more about my brave aunt and tell you that…I'm…a Seer, like you. So I took this potion…"

If Damien was expecting Parvati's approval of his revelation, he was disappointed. Petra heard Parvati's disapproval clearly though her voice had grown even softer.

"My sister's unhappy? It wasn't supposed to be this way. My sacrifice was made so that she could live happily with Dean and their children. It was my fate. But you shouldn't be here, Nephew. I suppose she's never told you about me because she didn't want you to know about…"

Parvati's soft voice faltered, suddenly breaking in urgency. "Go now Damien! Take Percy's daughter with you! I don't want you to…"

Petra felt her heart leap into her throat. "Do you know my father?" she interrupted.

"Of course I know him!" she stated, growing more and more agitated. "But you need to leave now. I don't want you to see…"

"See what?" asked Damien tensing in his seat.

"If you don't let me go soon, I'll have to relive my death and you'll see…you'll see…" The mist shimmered in a kaleidoscope of colors as though agitation was causing it to shift from red to blue to orange. "We're not meant to be summoned this way. I'm happy where I am. If I weren't, I would be a ghost roaming about. Please break the connection."

"I don't know how," said Damien desperately.

The trap door of the classroom suddenly swung open and two hooded figures walked in. Petra recognized them as Death Eaters from her History of Magic textbook. One of them aimed his wand at a younger Professor Trelawney who was seated at the front of the classroom and stunned her. A high, terrified scream ripped through the classroom, it came from somewhere on Petra's left. She turned and found herself seated next to a young girl staring at the Death Eaters in horror. Petra almost screamed herself as she looked about the room and found that it was full of frightened students though she did not recognize any of them. "What's happening?" she cried, turning back to Damien.

"You've forced me to relive my death scene," answered Parvati sorrowfully. "They don't see you and they can't hurt you, but you'll see my last moment's of consciousness."

Petra watched helplessly as the Death Eaters dragged two students up to the front of the classroom. One of them was the girl who had screamed when the Death Eaters walked in. The other was unmistakably Damien's father, Dean Thomas. They had the same milky-coffee coloring and the same tall, lanky frame.

Parvati looked at Damien as he watched the unfolding scene. One of the Death Eaters held the remaining class members at bay with his wand while the other one roughed up the two students in the front. The Death Eater slapped Dean Thomas hard across the face as he shouted, "You Mudblood filth! We know they aren't here. But this is what's going to happen: we're going to rid this school of your kind, one by one until Harry Potter and his lackeys turn themselves in." He yanked viciously on the girl's hair as he said coldly, "and we're going to start with you two." He motioned to the other Death Eater. "It is time."

The second Death Eater joined his partner at the head of the room. They lifted their wands in unison and aimed them at Dean and the terrified girl. "_Avada_…"

Just as they said the second word, a girl darted up from one of the tables and ran in front of the two students. The girl looked exactly like Damien's mum so she guessed this was Parvati. The Parvati in the vision took the curse and crumpled to the ground, but so did the Death Eaters. They fell back hard, one of them losing his mask as he went down.

"Break the connection now!" begged Parvati the Vision.

Damien let go of Petra's hand and walked to the head of the classroom. His gaze was riveted on the Death Eater whose mask had fallen. "It can't be…" he whispered in horror.

"What is it?" asked Petra, leaving their table as well. She watched Damien kneel down beside the dark skinned Death Eater who looked oddly familiar now. "Damien, isn't that…"

Damien completed her sentence. "My grandfather." He turned back towards the table to Parvati. "Grandfather was a Death Eater? Your own father killed you? Why hasn't anyone told me about this?"

Damien suddenly seized up, shuddering convulsively and collapsed beside the Death Eater. "They're coming again! They're coming again!" Damien moaned.

Petra screamed. "Damien! What's happening?"

She could barely make out Parvati's words. "He's caught up in my death scene. The potion is making him see it over and over again. You need to get help or he'll be trapped forever!"

Petra looked around desperately. She didn't think it was safe to leave Damien alone, caught up in the nightmarish scene, yet she knew she had to get help soon. Damien's skin had taken a horrible, grayish tinge and he kept mumbling incoherently.

"What do I do? What do I do?" she wailed, looking about desperately. Suddenly she spotted her wand, abandoned on the table. _Yes_, she thought, _perhaps it would work_. She grabbed it and pointed it at Damien. "_Expecto Patronum_!" she shouted.

Although Petra had practiced the Patronus Charm with Uncle Harry in Defense Against the Dark Arts, she had never got a result like this. A great, shining spiraling object shot out of her wand and spun about the room. It circled Petra and Damien several times so fast that she could not make out its shape. Petra watched in amazement as the Death Eaters and the students faded away. Damien stopped shaking and moaning. Petra's Patronus hovered over her for a few seconds then disappeared, before she could actually see what shape it took.

Petra saw the mist that was Parvati alight from the table and drift over her and Damien. She could no longer make out any features in the mist, but she heard the voice.

"Thank you, you saved his life. Get him to the hospital wing now. When he wakes up, explain to him that my death was necessary for many reasons. My father changed after that. He saw the error of his ways and turned spy for the Order saving many, many lives. It also allowed his father to live so that he could be born. Tell him I said, it was worth it." Petra nodded, silently, too choked up to answer.

The ethereal mist leaned down towards Damien and brushed against his forehead. Petra had a feeling that Parvati had just kissed him. The mist began to recede, Parvati's voice sounding farther away than ever. "You, Percy's daughter, will find what you are searching for. Be patient, the answers will come to you."

The mist brushed up against her cheek, shimmered brightly, then faded away, leaving Petra alone, wondering how she was going to get the unconscious Damien to the hospital wing and wishing she knew what Parvati meant about her finding answers.


	8. Chapter 8

**Searching for Percy**

**Chapter 8 – On My Father's Wings**

_  
Someday with his spirit to guide me  
And his memory beside me  
I will be free to _

Fly on my father's wings  
To places I have never been  
There is so much I've never seen  
And I can feel his heartbeat still  
And I will do great things  
On my father's wings  
On my father's wings 

_**On My Fathers Wings  
Lyrics & Music By: Carole Bayer Sager & David Foster**_

****

**A/N: A major thanks is owed to Yolanda for letting my kids play w/ hers, the Lennox-Snapes (Alex, Gareth and Colin). And another huge thank you to Soupytwist for 'British-ing' me and overlooking my grammatical challenges. Cheers everyone!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Petra rushed down the silvery ladder leading from the Divination room. Having failed to rouse Damien, she'd left him on the floor of the Divination classroom, intent on getting to the hospital wing so she could alert Madam Pomfrey. She jumped down from the last few rungs and looked about furtively. Seeing no one, she ran for the end of the corridor. What she saw as she turned the corner, made her heart fall all the way down to her toes with an icy thump.

"Well, well, well, what is Miss Weasley doing running about the castle at this hour?"

Petra gaped at Malfoy helplessly, willing her brain to come up with a plausible explanation and failing miserably. She looked from Malfoy's triumphant, pasty face down to Miss P who curled herself around her legs and let out a loud, unpleasant 'meow'. Petra tensed as the foul cat disappeared around the corner with a flip of her ratty tail. She couldn't remember having put up the ladder to the Divination room, but surely the cat couldn't climb it, could she?

"Out with it Weasley," spat Malfoy.

Petra flinched as little specks of spit flew out of his mouth and fell on her face. "I…well…you see…I…"

"You don't have an excuse, do you?" said Malfoy without waiting for Petra to finish. He looked at her appraisingly. "You're just like your uncles, you know that? Breaking rules left and right and always getting away with it. Well not on my watch, Missy." His mouth tipped into a lopsided sneer, Malfoy's version of a smile. "You'd think you might have turned out different considering your father was Mr. Perfect Prefect himself."

Petra felt her temper rising, causing a hot, red stain to color the back of her neck and giving her a brave sort of recklessness. She used a name she had often her Uncle Ron use when referring to Malfoy although she had no idea what it meant herself.

"Don't you talk about my father, Ferret Boy!"

The affect on Malfoy was instantaneous. His watery, gray eyes widened with shock and his pale face tinged with color. "What did you call me?" he asked in a dangerously soft voice.

"Besides," said Petra quickly, hoping to distract him from the name, "I _**do**_ have an excuse. I have a horrible stomach ache." She clutched her middle for emphasis. "I was on my way to see Madam Pomfrey."

Malfoy looked slightly taken aback as he processed this information. Petra placed her crossed fingers in the pocket of her robes and mentally cursed herself as her hand brushed against the cool material of the Invisibility Cloak. Why hadn't she remembered to put it on?

Malfoy's eyes narrowed sharply. "You were on your way to the hospital wing, through North Tower?"

"It's not my fault I ended up here," said Petra quickly. "The staircases move you know."

Malfoy hesitated for a second. "I'll escort you down to the hospital wing," he said grudgingly, turning to go. "Miss P, come on girl, let's get Miss Weasley to Madam Pomfrey. We wouldn't want her to lose her way again," he added nastily. He stopped suddenly, looking about. "Miss P?" Petra followed Malfoy around the corner, silently cursing the cat.

They found her at the foot of the Divination ladder, meowing up at the open trapdoor. Malfoy turned to Petra. "Anything you'd like to tell me, Miss Weasley?"

Petra was just about to open her mouth to deny any wrongdoing when they heard a loud shriek from up above. Professor Trelawney suddenly emerged from the trapdoor and scrambled down the ladder. "Mr Malfoy!" she cried breathlessly upon seeing him. "Mr Malfoy, I had just Flooed back to my classroom after talking to a talented, young student about a Vision he'd experience and I found this…" she pointed her wand above her and slowly swung it down. Damien's lax body floated through the trapdoor and hovered in the air before them. She produced a small potion bottle. "I found this by his side."

"P-professor, I can explain. You see…" Petra began.

Malfoy took the bottle from Trelawney and turned slowly, catlike to Petra. "On second thought, why don't you save it for McGonagall."

Petra watched anxiously as Madam Pomfrey came around the curtain that hid Damien's hospital bed from view. "He'll be all right," she pronounced earning a collective sigh of relief from most of the group surrounding Petra. The group included Professor Longbottom, Professor Flitwick (who was Damien's Head of House), Trelawney and Headmistress McGonagall. Malfoy remained near the hospital wing door, not so much out of concern for Damien as to make sure that he and Petra got the proper punishment. Madam Pomfrey pulled the curtain aside so that they could see Damien, who was now awake and resting in his bed. He looked quite anxious as the group approached him. Petra imagined he felt just as helpless as she did about their current situation.

"I'm very glad to know that you're well, Mr. Thomas," said McGonagall, her tone warm, though her face remained stern.

"Thank you, professor," mumbled Damien, not quite meeting her eyes. He exchanged a fleeting, guilty glance with Petra.

"Damien," began Flitwick in his squeaky, little voice, "What were you and Miss Weasley doing in the North Tower that caused you to get in this condition?"

"They were Wiggin'" Malfoy cut in, abandoning his post by the door. "I told you, Professor Trelawney found that potion bottle by Thomas." Miss P meowed loudly as if in agreement with her master.

"Malfoy," Professor Longbottom cut in, "We know about the potion bottle. However, we don't know for sure that it contained Billywig stings or not. Professor Snape is analyzing its contents right now. In any case, my fellow professors and I appreciate your assistance, but we'll take it from here."

Malfoy looked as though he was being forced to swallow a ladle full of a particularly foul tasting potion. He gave a curt nod and turned on his heel, signaling to his cat to follow him out.

Professor Snape rushed past Malfoy on his way into the hospital wing. Snape stopped in front of the other professors, panting slightly. "I came as quickly as I could," he said, waving the tiny bottle under their noses. "I suspected it when I saw Thomas' condition, but I wanted to be sure. This isn't exactly an easy potion to make."

"What is it?" asked Longbottom apprehensively.

An oddly sympathetic look flickered in Snape's dark eyes as he looked over Petra and Damien's guilt ridden faces. "This is _Vox de Morte_ Potion."

"What?" asked Longbottom, his brow creasing with confusion.

Now Snape looked slightly exasperated. "Honestly Longbottom, did you ever pay attention in my classes?"

McGonagall cleared her throat loudly, causing Longbottom and Snape to fall silent. "So, it seems these students set up a little séance, did they?"

"That's correct," said Snape. "The use of this potion is strictly controlled by the Ministry. The repercussions of an untrained person's use can be serious indeed. It can cause death. Not to mention that most of the ingredients are hard to come by. In fact," Snape paused, his dark eyes boring into Petra and Damien, causing her to shiver, "I'd be highly interested in knowing how these students got their hands on the recipe at all. I don't believe there's an actual list of ingredients anywhere in Hogwarts, not even in the Restricted Section of the Library."

"Would you care to enlighten us, Mr Thomas, or Miss Weasley?" asked Flitwick.

Petra didn't even dare to glance at Damien. She hung her head, unable to meet any of the professors' eyes.

"Professor Flitwick asked you a question," said Professor Longbottom firmly.

"Indeed," agreed Snape. "I am most interested as to where you found this potion."

Petra blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "The Internet!" Petra heard a slight groan from Damien's direction.

Snape's eyebrows shot up sharply. "The Internet, Miss Weasley?"

"Yes, of course!" affirmed Petra. The professors and Madam Pomfrey looked slightly confused. "You know, the Muggle computer communication system?" She silently thanked her mum's side of the family for being Muggle. "The World Wide Spider Web?" she prompted, feeling slightly more confident.

"I'm aware of what it is," said Snape in a tone that implied he was losing his patience. "I am acquainted with quite a few Muggles myself. However, I somehow doubt that you would've found the recipe for such a complex potion on there."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," said Petra in a loud, cheery voice. "You can find anything there."

Flitwick's expression seemed to be wavering between concern and pity. "Petra, the Ministry is well aware of the extensive communication network on the internet, that's why they monitor it so closely. Information about the wizarding world leaks out frequently. Muggles set up websites about us all the time. Why, I heard about this site called the Sug-"

McGonagall cleared her throat loudly, indicating that Flitwick should return to the task at hand.

"Yes, in fact, the Ministry has a special division which does nothing but monitor the Web." Flitwick nodded towards Damien. "Your father, Dean, is an internet moderator, is he not?"

Damien nodded miserably.

Snape looked furious. "We can now add lying to a professor to your long list of infractions, Miss Weasley. I suggest you come clean. Now!"

Damien cleared his throat loudly. "I'll tell you the truth then." Petra listened quietly, as anxious to hear Damien's explanation as any of the others. "The truth is that I sneaked a visit into Knockturn Alley in September and that's where I found the recipe. I wanted to use it to communicate with my Aunt Parvati who died here at Hogwarts during the Siege. I told Petra about it because she's my…my best friend." Petra couldn't help the small smile that crept up on her. "I told her I was going to try it tonight and she sneaked out of her dorm to try and stop me. In fact, if she hadn't of been there, I probably would've died. She did…something with her wand that caused my aunt's ghost to return to the spirit world."

Snape stared at Petra appraisingly. "A Patronus?" he asked with eyebrows raised.

Petra nodded.

Flitwick's eyes lit up with interest. "Really Miss Weasley? What shape did your Patronus take?"

Petra opened her mouth to respond, but Professor McGonagall cut her off. "That was very dangerous Mr Thomas!"

Damien hung his head guiltily. He snuck a peek at Petra through the corner of his eye, and Petra somehow understood she wasn't to correct his story. "I brewed the potion, I'm the only one who took it, and I'm the only one who deserves to be punished. I was just curious about my aunt because my mother has never told me that she had a twin sister."

The professors all turned away from them, looking slightly stricken. Madam Pomfrey actually slipped away, blowing her nose loudly. When McGonagall finally spoke, her voice was somewhat softer.

"It's understandable that you would want to meet your aunt. She was extremely courageous and anyone would be proud of her. However, it is unacceptable that you should brew illegal potions and endanger yourself as well as a fellow student. You will have to be punished."

"I understand, Professor McGonagall," said Damien.

"Fifty points will be taken from Ravenclaw," said Flitwick grimly.

"And," continued McGonagall, " because I want to impress the seriousness of your actions, I'm afraid you won't be joining us for the A.D. Ball."

"But Professor!" protested Petra.

"I understand," said Damien loudly.

"You will also," McGonagal paused, her mouth set in a thin, grim line, "be writing to your parents and explaining your absence at the ball."

Damien looked positively sick at the thought.

Professor Longbottom cut in, "I'm afraid Miss Weasley should have consequences as well. While her attempts to stop Mr Thomas are admirable, it would have been even more admirable if she had told a professor the moment she knew he intended to take the potion. Twenty-five points will be taken from Gryffindor for your serious lack of judgement."

Petra accepted her punishment meekly, feeling far worse about Damien's consequences. At least she still got to go to the ball.

"We should let Mr Thomas rest now," said Professor Flitwick, suddenly sounding exhausted. It's been a long night."

Professor Longbottom put an arm on Petra's shoulder. "I'll escort you up to Gryffindor Tower."

Petra gave Damien a small, goodnight wave and started to walk off with Longbottom when Snape spoke. "Longbottom, if you don't mind, I'll escort Miss Weasley myself as I like to ask her some questions about the potion's immediate affects on Mr. Thomas." He paused. "I have a personal interest in that particular potion."

Longbottom shrugged noncommittally, bid them goodnight and walked out the door, soon followed by the other teachers.

Despite Snape's pretext for escorting Petra, he remained quiet throughout their trip through Hogwart's dark halls and staircases. It wasn't until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady that he spoke. "You know Miss Weasley, one thing that I find very interesting is the fact that you would not try to use the _Vox de Morte _Potion yourself. After all, you have just as much reason as Mr. Thomas, perhaps even more."

Petra squirmed, uncomfortable under Snape's gaze. It seemed irrelevant that she say anything to the contrary since he seemed to be looking straight through her. After a few seconds, Snape's eyes softened and Petra thought she detected sadness in their dark depths. "Petra, if you have any questions about your father, wouldn't it be better to talk to your family? I'm sure they would tell you anything you wanted to know."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you," mumbled Petra, turning away from him slightly so that he wouldn't see her bottom lip trembling.

Snape hesitated, looking slightly discomfited. "You still get to go to the A.D. Ball," he said, as though attempting to console her in his own awkward way. "Gareth should be pleased about that. I understand you two will be going together."

"As friends," said Petra quickly, feeling the need to explain. "Gareth is in the same Muggle Studies project group as Damien and me. Gareth couldn't go with Viviana Lupin, so he asked me to go." She felt the need to keep talking as Snape kept staring at her. "Gareth's really smart," she added lamely.

"Indeed," said Snape with a twitch of his long, crooked nose. "Particularly at _Potions_."

Petra tittered nervously. "Well, that's to be expected."

"Yes, I suppose it is. Good night, Miss Weasley," said Snape with one last appraising look. Petra gave the password to the Fat Lady and entered her common room wondering if sleep would elude her as she pondered all of the events of the day. She felt as though she had aged twenty years from the time she overheard her Aunt Hermione and Uncle Harry's conversation about her father's death.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 The Albus Dumbledore Memorial Ball**

_**A/N: Thanks to Zsenya for the beta. All lyrics in this chapter are mine. **_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing**_

_Owl me when you're down_

_Owl me 'cause I'll be around_

_Owl me won't you please?_

_I'm begging you down on my knees!_

The music was loud. Enchanted lights pulsed in time with the beat, changing colors in time to the music. The Albus Dumbledore Memorial Ball was open to all current Hogwarts students as well as Alumni. It was easily the largest wizard gathering of the year. Through the din of music and talking, Petra heard one of the adults complaining, "Why can't they play some decent music, like some Weird Sisters? I don't like this new age, techno-wizard dung!"

Small, round tables lined the outer edges of the hall, leaving a huge space for dancing in the middle. Petra was sitting with Gareth at one of the tables. They had deliberately chosen a table as far away from Petra's family as possible. She had attended two previous A.D. Balls, but this was the first time she'd brought a date. She didn't want her uncles torturing her or Gareth.

Gareth looked quite handsome in his green, velvet dress robes. Petra tried to overlook the fact that he kept looking about, obviously trying to catch a glimpse of Viviana Lupin with his younger brother Colin. She saw that Colin and Viviana were on the dance floor along with Billy and Mauve Finnigan. Neither boy seemed to care that both of their dates were considerably taller than them.

Gareth caught Petra staring at him as he frowned at his younger brother. He apologized sheepishly.

Petra shrugged. "It's all right. I just wish you could've come with Viviana."

Gareth snickered mischievously. "Not to worry. Damien and I have something planned." He looked quickly at Petra. "You _did_ lend him the Invisibility Cloak, didn't you?"

Petra nodded, having trouble hearing Gareth over the noise of the music. "We're supposed to meet at nine o'clock in the Entrance Hall."

Petra and Damien had hardly had time to talk in the week that followed their experimentation with the _Vox de Morte_ potion. They had seen each other briefly in the library during their Muggle Studies project group. It was there that Petra, Gareth and Damien had come up with a plan for Damien to attend the ball.

Petra had paid an obligatory visit to her family's table upon entering the Great Hall earlier. Everyone had been there except for grandmother and grandfather Weasley who always stayed home with the grandchildren who weren't Hogwarts aged yet. Petra had been hugged and kissed time and after time while Gareth had had his hand pumped up and down by most of her uncles. Petra had felt a bit awkward with her Uncle Ron, as she had not seen him since their argument at Uncle George's house in Hogsmeade. However, he had hardly paid her any mind. He was too busy staring at Aunt Hermione who was looking particularly lovely that evening in robes of pale rose. Uncle Ron kept glaring at Hermione as she danced with Professor Longbottom.

_Can you tell me where you find love?_

_In the middle of an ocean_

_Or maybe in a pub_

_In a Hog-warts classroom,_

_In a bottle of potion _

_Or maybe on the moon _

_In a cauldron_

_Or on the moon_

_Wherever it is_

_I'll find it with you!_

Petra's mum was there as well, sitting at a table close to the Weasleys with Petra's stepfather Dave. Petra stopped by for a hug and a kiss. Her mum was looking lovely as well, though she seemed a bit distracted.

Back at their table, Gareth and Petra watched the dance floor and made comments about the various dancers.

"Look at Max Hagrid and Helga. She barely comes up to his waist!"

"Ridiculous!"

"Check out your uncle, Petra. He looks like a windmill! Look, poor Professor Trelawney looks scared!"

"Watch it, Snape!"

Petra had to admit that Uncle Fred was somewhat of a wild dancer. He was dancing so energetically that poor Trelawney was having a hard time keeping up with him. She supposed she should feel sorry for him as Auntie Angelina was extremely pregnant with their fourth child and couldn't hit the dance floor as often as Uncle Fred would've liked. Petra glanced back at the Weasley table and caught sight of Aunt Angelina comparing her swollen stomach with Auntie Ginny's. They both looked as if they'd swallowed a Quaffle.

Petra was starting to feel nervous. She hoped Damien could sneak down without getting caught. She turned to Gareth and motioned towards the dance floor, figuring she might as well dance one song with her date before they parted.

Gareth turned out to be an excellent dancer. It was easy to see why. Professor Snape and his wife were exceptional dancers. Petra noted that they had not missed a single song so far, although they did tend to dance everything quite close to each other, no matter how fast the song was.

At five minutes to nine, Petra and Gareth headed for the entrance hall. Petra scanned the dance floor before they stepped out. She was hoping to get a few minutes alone with Uncle Ron so that she could confront him about the things she'd heard Aunt Hermione and Uncle's Harry talking about. However, she couldn't seem to spot Uncle Ron or her mum for that matter. Petra shrugged and led Gareth towards a suit of armor next to the great oak front doors. Petra and Damien had arranged to meet at that spot. The music was not quite as loud as here so Petra whispered, "D, are you here?" through the corner of her mouth.

She jumped when she felt an invisible hand on her shoulder and she heard Damien's voice whisper, "Here I am."

"It's about time Thomas. I thought you were going to chicken out," said Gareth, keeping his dark eyes on Petra. "Are you sure you have the spell down?"

"What spell?" asked Petra, confused.

"Nevermind," whispered Damien, dropping his hand from Petra's shoulder. "It's all been arranged. I got them when they came out to use the loo." Damien chuckled. "That was a couple of minutes ago. They should be feeling the effects any time now."

"Who's going to feel what effects?" asked Petra.

"I'd high five you if I could see you Thomas," said Gareth with an evil grin. "Although we really owe the idea to Petra here."

"What idea?" asked Petra, starting to feel annoyed by their indecipherable conversation.

"Moke skin underwear," whispered Damien in a highly amused voice. "I pegged Billy and Colin with a spell to turn their underwear into Moke skin when they passed by. They'll soon find it very difficult to get close to their dates. So…," he said, stretching out the word, "Snape here, gets to step in to keep Viviana Lupin company."

"That doesn't seem very fair to Mauve," said Petra.

"Yeah well, Billy deserves it too for having the nerve to ask a third year girl," said Damien nonchalantly. "And besides, Mauve's perky. I'm sure she'll find someone else to dance with."

"Here they come!"

Petra's cousin Billy and Colin Snape came running into the entrance hall wearing horrified expressions. Billy's voice sounded unnaturally high. "What can it be?" He asked anxiously.

Petra, Gareth and Damien under the Invisibility Cloak, stood by them as unobtrusively as possible so as to listen to their conversation.

"I dunno," answered Colin, his voice coming out in a high falsetto as well. "Every time I tried to take Vivi's hand to dance, my…my…," he looked about furtively. "_My underwear tried to choke me_!"

"Mine too!" said Billy, eyes wide with horror. "What does this mean?"

"Dad told me about the birds and the bees this year, but he never mentioned _this_!" Colin grimaced. "Do you suppose this is one of those puberty things?"

"I dunno," said Billy, raising a hand to run it through his strawberry blond hair. With this motion he inadvertently brushed his hand against Colin.

Colin jumped away from Billy with a squeal. "It happened again!"

"Me too!" yelled Billy in a high, strangled voice.

"We can't stay here like this!"

"What about our dates?" asked Billy.

Gareth stepped up and laid deliberate hands on Colin and Billy's shoulders, causing them to flinch and draw back. Gareth chuckled. "Having a bit of trouble boys? Not to worry Colin, I'll look after your date."

Colin's eyes narrowed. "Did you have something to do with this, you stupid git?"

Gareth leaned towards the boys with a covert look. "I'd be very careful when I remove those pants,mates. We wouldn't want Madam Pomfrey to have to do some, you know…reconstructive spells…"

The boys' eyes bugged out in horror. They looked at each other for a second and seemed to come to an unspoken understanding. They ran for the staircase and disappeared up the marble steps.

"That was great!" hissed Damien, edging towards Gareth.

Gareth turned in the direction he thought Damien was standing and flashed him a smug smile. "It's all in the delivery. I learned that from dad." He glanced at Petra suddenly and hesitated looking slightly sheepish. "Er…Petra, do you mind if I…"

Petra felt Damien's hand slip into hers. She wouldn't be alone and that made it easy to say to Gareth, "It's all right, Damien will keep me company."

Gareth looked both relieved and pleased. He flashed them one last lop-sided grin before disappearing into loud, pulsing din of the Great Hall.

_Ooh baby!_

_I just cannot hide it_

_Cannot even fight it_

_All the magic of your love_

_Ooh baby!_

_Want to have you near me_

_Enchanted when you're with me_

_All the magic of your love_

Petra didn't let go of Damien's invisible hand as they made their waythrough the open front door to the spectacular memorial garden set up outside the castle. After looking over the dance floor once more, she had determined that Uncle Ron and her mum were not there, so Petra decided they should look through the garden. If they didn't find her uncle and mum, at least they could find a spot to talk.

They strolled around the huge topiary sculptures lit with thousands of fairy lights. The statues commemorated various war heroes. The centerpiece of the garden was a huge shrubbery statue of Albus Dumbledore. It had become a tradition for wizards and witches attending the A.D. Ball to bring brightly colored socks and hang them about the statue in remembrance of his fondness for this particular article of clothing. A plaque at the foot of the statue read:

_One can never have enough socks!_

Petra and Damien circled the garden once. They soon became embarrassed by all of the couples who had chosen the garden for a variety of romantic activities. The last straw came when they thought they had found a private little nook behind a statue of Matilda the Manky, only to find it occupied by Professor Snape and his wife snogging in a way that would've made Gareth spontaneously combust with mortification.

"Bloody Hell!" whispered Damein in her ear, "No wonder Gareth has so many siblings! Let's get out of here."

Petra allowed him to lead her up the steps into the entrance hall again. She felt Damien pulling her towards the Charms corridor to the right of the entrance hall. When they were sure that they were out of sight, Petra ducked under the Invisibility Cloak. She felt a little nervous, standing so close to Damien in the dimly lit corridor. She shivered when he leaned down close to her ear and whispered, "Let's go into a classroom."

They were right outside the Charms room when Petra paused, hearing a pair of very familiar voices. She motioned to Damien to follow her into the open classroom door quietly.

"I…I can't do it Penny. She's asking all of these questions…" Petra saw her Uncle Ron move towards a window and stare forlornly outside. The room was dark, the only illumination coming from the moonlight outside. It caught in Ron's red hair causing it to shine orange.

"You promised Ron," said Petra's mum.

Uncle Ron leaned his forehead against the window. "What am I supposed to tell her, eh?"

"The truth!" said Penny angrily, glaring at Ron's back.

"What? That I killed her father?" Ron's shoulders slumped as the sound of his words bounced off the windowpane before him.

Under the Invisibility cloak, Petra pressed her hands to her mouth to smother a gasp. Damien put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed tightly.

"Oh don't let's start that again!" protested Penny, striding across the room towards Ron. She yanked him around to face her and Petra was startled to see that he was crying. Great, glistening tears slid down his cheeks, and landed in spots on his dress robes. "And just how do you figure that you killed him?"

"You _know_ why," said Ron harshly, casting Penny a hard look before dropping his gaze to the floor.

Penny shook him slightly as she spoke. "You didn't kill Percy, Ron. Death Eaters did."

"I may as well have," said Ron, his voice dropping just above a whisper. Petra leaned forward so as not to miss a word. "I may as well have pointed my wand at him."

"Ron!" began Penny, her voice rising. "I will not let you cheapen his sacrifice with your self-serving nonsense. Percy," Ron flinched as though the very name caused him pain, but Penny continued, "Percy made the choice."

"A choice he shouldn't have been allowed to make!" yelled Ron hoarsely.

"That wasn't your decision," said Penny quietly. "It wasn't anybody's decision but Percy's." She pushed Ron's hair back in a sisterly gesture. "I know what you're feeling. I was angry with him too. I didn't understand why he did it at first."

Ron pulled away from her comforting hand. "No, you don't understand! Every time I look at Petra…I…I…can't…"

"You can't what?" asked Petra in a deadly calm voice. Ron's eyes widened in horror at the sight of her. Penny gasped and whirled around to find her daughter before her. Petra had yanked the Invisibility Cloak off despite Damien's attempts to hold her back. Petra was beyond caution, beyond reason. She didn't care what the consequences were. She only knew that she wanted answers and she wanted them now.

Ron looked at Petra for a second, then turned his back on her. Petra literally saw red. She was so angry she couldn't breath. "Tell me the truth!" she rushed forward, shouting at Ron's back.

Penny dashed over to Petra, attempting to restrain her with an embrace. "You don't understand, sweetheart…"

"Oh I understand better than you think," spat Petra pulling out of her mother's hug to confront her. "You're liars. You've all been lying to me. I don't even know what to believe anymore. Tell me, Mum, was Percy Weasley even my real father?"

Petra didn't see at what point her mother raised her hand, but her stinging slap momentarily blinded Petra with pain. She reeled back clutching her burning cheek and bumped into Damien who was suddenly standing directly behind her.

Ron turned around immediately. "Penny! That wasn't necessary!" he shouted, rushing towards Petra.

Petra recoiled from her uncle, shaking her head. "Don't you come near me! I hate you!"

Petra's words caused Ron to stagger back as though she had thrown him a physical blow. However she only saw it for a second because she turned and ran from the room as fast as she could. She rushed through the entrance hall, ignoring the curious looks and stares from the people milling about. She knew she must look a fright with her tear-stained face, in her rumpled dress robes. But all Petra cared about was getting to the broom shed as soon as possible. There was something she had to do, and nothing was going to deter her this time.

Petra stumbled into the broom shed, half blinded by tears. She wiped at her face impatiently, reached for the wand holster hidden by a charm in the front of her dress robes and muttered a locking spell at the door. She walked backwards and tripped painfully over a bench, landing hard on the wooden floor. Cursing, she lifted her wand and mumbled, "_Lumos_." She used the dim wand light to illuminate the ground before her as she walked up to the cupboard that Damien had been using to brew the _Vox de Morte_ potion.

The potion was still simmering over the smokeless fire. After being caught, neither of them had wanted to run the risk of being caught going out to the shed. The potion was still in the small, black cauldron sitting in the cupboard. Being over a magical fire, it hadn't burned. Petra picked up the ladle beside it with a trembling hand. She didn't have a container, but she supposed a ladle full would do. She brought the dark liquid up to her lips and paused, thinking of Damien's reaction to the potion. Had she not been there to do the Patronus, he might have died, his mind torturing him with his Aunt Parvati's death scene over and over. She wondered briefly what her father's death had been like? What horrible way had he died that made her Uncle Ron the man he was now? Uncle Ron hadn't changed until he found out how her father died. Why?

She sat down on a nearby bench, contemplating the ladle full of potion in her hands. Even outside of the cauldron, it bubbled and simmered, thin ribbons of steam wafting up into her face. Enveloped in its comforting warmth, it was hard to believe that the effects of the potion could be so dire. Damien had nearly died from using this potion. On the other hand, he had also had the opportunity to talk to the aunt he'd never known. True, he had received punishment; the hardest part for him had been having to write that letter to his parents. His mother had written back telling him how disappointed they were for his having used such a dangerous potion. However, she also apologized for never having told him about Parvati. She said she was looking forward to telling Damien all about her once he came home for the holidays.

They couldn't travel to the ball because his mother had just given birth to his new little sister, Danielle Parvati Thomas.

Petra smiled, despite her tears, remembering the picture that Damien had received from his mum; she was in her hospital bed at St. Mungo's, his father and sister Diedra standing by the bed, and in her arms was a tiny, toffee coloured baby with Damien's dark, curly hair. The baby was waving her little arms and every once in a while, she opened her tiny, pink mouth to yawn. Damien had Spell-O-Taped the picture to the inside of his Transfiguration textbook.

Petra could still see this picture in her mind and it vanquished any doubt she might have had about taking the potion. She decided to hold the ladle with her left hand, so that she could keep her wand in her right. She figured if it looked like she was going to have trouble, she could quickly shoot out a Patronus with her wand at ready.

Petra's left hand shook as it brought the ladle up to her mouth, drops of potion splashed on her dress robes. They sizzled before burning through the material. Petra's hands shook even harder, yet she managed to touch the rim of the ladle to her bottom lip. She opened her mouth.

"_ALOHAMORA!"_

A bright surge of light flooded the dusty, little shed. The door tumbled off of its hinges and fell forward, narrowly missing Petra. She dropped the potion, unsure of whether she had swallowed any or not. Confused and frightened, she gripped her wand tightly and cried, "_Expecto Patronus_!"

Many things happened at once. Petra's Patronus shot out of her wand with a dazzling radiance. At the same time, a group of people burst through the open doorway.

"Merlin's beard!" someone cried.

Petra's Patronus was a tall, lanky man with horn-rimmed glasses. Even though she had never met him, she knew instantly who he was. He tossed his luminous cape aside, puffing his chest out in a pompous manner. On his chest was a large, glowing badge with a radiant P on it. The figure stood before Petra, contemplating her.

Petra felt someone's presence next to her and turned to find her Uncle Ron standing there. Ron reached out to the figure with trembling fingers. "Perce," he whispered shakily. The image grinned benevolently and faded away before her uncle could actually touch it. It left a glowing warmth in its wake.

Ron turned towards the open doorway where Petra's mum and Damien were standing, gaping at the pair of them. "Percy is her Patronus," he said in a voice filled with wonder.

Penny only nodded; she was crying too hard to respond, although she was smiling as well. Damien simply beamed. To Petra's astonishment, she found herself grinning back.

Petra's uncle broke the spell. "I think," said Ron quietly, "that Petra and I need to have a talk."

Damien took Penny's arm and led her out of the shed.

Ron sat on a bench, patting the space next to him. "Do you know about the Siege at Hogwarts?" he asked once Petra had sat down.

Petra nodded, "Damien's aunt died during the Siege."

Ron looked off into the distance, and nodded solemnly. "Parvati Patil," he said quietly. Petra nodded again.

"Shame about that," he shook his head sadly. "She was a beautiful girl, brave too. The thing is neither Aunt Hermione nor Uncle Harry or myself were actually at Hogwarts on that day. The Order had sequestered Harry away for his safety. Hermione and I had been taken away as well to prevent Voldemort from taking us and trying to use us as bait for Harry. The thing is…" Ron faltered, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't find this out until a few years ago when the Ministry released the war files, that we…we…had a Secret Keeper." He paused and looked Petra in the eyes. "You know what a Secret Keeper is, don't you?" Petra was so riveted by Uncle Ron's words that she couldn't even nod. She let out a small squeak that Ron must have taken for understanding because he continued. "My brother, Percy, was my Secret Keeper."

Petra was suddenly aware that her mouth was hanging open so she closed it. "My dad?" she asked.

Ron's chin trembled, but he nodded. "Wormtail," Ron spat the name out, "was a Death Eater who was…er…acquainted with our family. He remembered how protective Percy had always been of me, of all of us really. He guessed that Percy would be my Secret Keeper so he kidnapped him, tortured him, and then killed him." Ron clasped Petra's small hand tightly between his own. "But your father never told him anything," he said proudly. "My brother never said a word."

By this time, Petra was sobbing. "My dad was so brave! I wish I had known him."

Ron gathered her in his arms and pulled her close. "I…I wish you had known him too. You're everything he would've loved in a daughter; smart, brave, beautiful…. In fact, you're a lot like him," he smiled ruefully, "except for the beautiful part, that's all your mother." Suddenly, he stood up, pushing Petra away from him. He placed his hands over his face. "That's why I…Hillary…Hermione…. I can't." He began pacing the length of the shed.

Petra looked at her uncle, an idea starting to dawn on her. "Are you telling me, you don't…think you deserve that kind of happiness?"

Ron nodded, not quite meeting her eyes. He resumed pacing.

"Well maybe you don't!" cried Petra surprising Ron so much that he stopped pacing altogether. "You heard me! My father sacrificed himself so that we, the wizarding world, could all have a better life. You're spitting on that sacrifice by feeling sorry for yourself, pushing away Aunt Hermione and Hillary and everyone else who loves you!"

"But I…I…had everything that Percy would've wanted; fame, galleons, a top job in the Ministry and a daughter… It's not fair!"

"And you think my dad wouldn't want you to have that?" asked Petra incredulously. "My dad obviously loved you very much. I'm sure wherever he is, he's happy to see you succeeding. But what you've done to Auntie Hermione and Hillary…" Petra faltered, shaking her head sadly.

Ron sat down next to Petra again, his elbows on his knees, head hanging. He finally looked up at Petra. "I've really messed things up, haven't I?"

Petra nodded. "Yes, you have. But you have a chance to make things better." She squeezed his hand tightly and smiled. "Dad made sure of that."

"Is everything all right?"

Petra and Ron turned to see Aunt Hermione standing in the doorway of the broom shed, looking at them anxiously. "Mauve Finnigan told me she saw Petra rushing outside, crying. Penny told me I might find her here."

"We're fine now Aunt Hermione."

Ron marched past Petra, and approached Hermione. "Yes, we're fine now." He took Hermione's hand in his own. "But I think we can get better."

Hermione gaped at him in astonishment. She left her hand in Ron's.

Ron turned back to Petra, holding out his other hand. "Come on Pickles. You owe me a dance."

Petra took his hand, grinning happily. "Okay, but just one. I have a feeling your dance card may be busy for the rest of the night." The three of them walked out, hand in hand. "And Uncle Ron, don't every call me that name again!"


	10. Chapter 10

_**Chapter 10: Hereos**_

_**A/N: This is the end of this story. Hope you enjoyed it. **_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing**._

_Lesser known than his Secret Keeper duties, but no less important, was Percy's research on cauldron bottom consistency. In what is considered one of the more brilliant tactical moves of the war, Percy Weasley himself ensured that all cauldron orders from known Death Eater contingencies were filled with shoddy cauldrons. Professor Severus Snape, a spy for the Order of the Phoenix, can vouch that these faulty cauldrons ruined many a Death Eater potion, saving countless of innocent lives. _

_In conclusion I would like to say that Percy was a hero in every sense of the word. Through his actions he taught us that no cause is worth fighting unless you're willing to give everything; even if it means your life. The war effort cost him his, but Percival Angelus Weasley remains an inspiration to witches and wizards everywhere. _

Petra finished reading from her essay scroll and made a great show of rolling it back up, before quickly glancing up at her Uncle Ron, who sat opposite her at the scrubbed wooden table Burrow kitchen. Now that she had stopped reading, she could hear the sounds of the Weasley clan. The Burrow was full to bursting with Weasleys due to the Christmas holidays. Petra always spent Christmas with her grandparents.

Uncle Charlie had started an impromptu game of Quidditch after breakfast, so the majority of them were outside, although Petra could hear hints of activity and noise throughout the house as well. Luckily the kitchen was empty at the moment and Petra had taken this opportunity to let her Uncle Ron hear her essay. For some reason she couldn't explain, she felt that he should be the first one of the family to hear it.

Petra looked at her Uncle Ron through the corner of her eye, trying to gauge his expression. His eyes were unusually bright, but he had a broad grin on his freckled face, the likes of which Petra had not seen in a long time.

"Full marks on that one, eh?" asked Ron with a note of pride.

Relieved, Petra found herself grinning back at him. "Yeah. Those books that Aunt Hermione found on Dad really helped. _Unsung Heroes; The Casualties of Voldermort's Second Rising_ by Robin C. Brite was the best! I found tons of stuff in there."

She ducked her head, feeling shy again. "Grandma wanted me to read it to everyone after dinner, but I wanted you to hear it first..." her voice trailed off uncertainly.

Ron suddenly pushed his chair back from the table and held his arms out. "Come here, you!"

The awful tension she had felt between herself and her Uncle Ron for the past year, seemed to melt away as Petra ran to her uncle and let him envelope her in a warm embrace. She pressed her cheek to the front of her uncle's maroon coloured jumper and held on firmly. Ron held her tight, kissing her softly on the top of the head as she blurted out, "I miss him now. I never really missed out on having a father, because I have you. Now that I know more about Dad as a person, I really miss him." She drew a shuddering sigh. "Does that seem silly, missing someone that you've never met?"

Ron took a long time to answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was very soft. "I don't think it's silly. It's worse to wait until you miss someone to find out you never really knew him. Percy and I weren't close when we were growing up. In fact," he gave a short, rueful laugh, "we actually fought quite a bit. He was very protective, in a maddening sort of way. That always annoyed me…"

Petra heard her uncle choke on his words and felt his chest hitch up under her cheek. She looked up quickly, expecting to see tears running down his face, but he was quite dry-eyed. "That over-protectiveness really came in handy didn't it?" he said with a sad smile.

Petra had just opened her mouth to answer, when they heard a loud commotion coming towards the kitchen. It was her aunt Fleur leading Billy in by the ear. She looked very angry as she shouted at Billy, "I don't care how talented your Professor Trelawney thinks you are. You will not scare your leetle cousins with your falz preedictions!" Aunt Fleur's accent seemed to worsen with emotion.

Billy writhed in pain, trying to get away from his mother. "I didn't know they would get upset," he protested.

Aunt Fleur tightened her grip on his ear, completing ignoring Ron and Petra as she walked Billy through the kitchen towards the living room. "You told Rose your Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry adopted her!"

"I said she might find out she was adopted…."

"You told Lance his father is a Squib! Your father will hear about thees!" Aunt Fleur was practically shrieking now.

Uncle Ron turned to Petra with a smile as Billy and Aunt Fleur walked out of the kitchen. "Ah, the wonders of a full house."

Petra smiled back, glad for the distraction. "Speaking of which, are you bringing Hillary over for dinner this afternoon?" Petra remembered that last year Hillary had spent Christmas morning with her mother and Hermione's parents, then spent the afternoon with the Weasleys. Aunt Hermione hadn't joined them for Christmas dinner since she separated from Uncle Ron.

Uncle Ron's ears glowed pink. "Oh, er…did I forget to mention that Auntie Hermione's coming to Christmas dinner? They'll be along shortly, I imagine." He looked away, as though unable to meet her eyes.

Petra watched her Uncle's consternation with open-mouthed astonishment. "So does this mean…?" Petra's question hung in the air, unfinished. It seemed too much to dare to hope.

He took Petra's hands in his. "I moved back to Hogsmeade a month ago. Hermione and I started talking after the A.D. Ball and well, what can I say? Your Godfather's a prat, but your Godmother's a very special witch."

A sly smile crept over Petra's face. "I couldn't agree more."

Ron looked up at her sharply. "What?"

"My Godmother _is_ a special witch," said Petra innocently.

Ron tugged on Petra's auburn coloured plait. "Smart mouthed _and_ a Beater. You know, you really do take after your uncles, Gred and Forge. I thought _I_ was your role model."

_Six months later…_

"That was a spectacular play by Octavia Marsil of Beauxbatons. Unfortunately for them, Max Hagrid has made another stunning block for Hogwarts! Beauxbatons still has the upperhand as the score remains 200 to 180."

Petra gritted her teeth as she swung her club at an oncoming Bludger. Her swing sent the ball towards the Beauxbatons Chaser Octavia Marsil, who had regained the Quaffle. Octavia ducked quickly and dropped the ball. Loud cheers erupted from the Hogwarts side of the stands.

Petra could hardly spare a moment to glance at her supporters, but she knew who they were. The Weasley family had turned out in force to cheer the Hogwarts team during the Tri-School Quidditch League. Even Aunt Fleur was there, trying to stay politely neutral as Hogwarts was playing against her old school.

"Pickles! Pickles! She's our girl!

Best damn Beater, in the world!"

Petra gritted her teeth, her face burning at the sound of the magically magnified cheer. That had to be Fred and George. She was highly gratified to hear her Uncle Ron shout out, "Oy! Shut it you two!" This was followed by Professor McGonagall admonishing, "The staff would like to remind the spectators that profanity will not be tolerated. It is still within my power to remove you from the pitch, Weasleys!"

She flashed a grateful smile in the general direction of the professor just as Kathryn Davies, her fellow Beater, swooped past her. "Eyes on the game, Weasley!" Kathryn smacked the Bludger towards one of the Beauxbatons Chasers who had taken the Quaffle from Paige Ashlin, a Hogwarts fourth year who had just taken the Quaffle.

The crowd was so enthralled by this play in the middle of the pitch that nobody was paying attention to the Beauxbatons Seeker, Jean-Luc David, who had just gone into a spectacular dive. By the time Adrienne Lynch noticed, Danielle was only inches away from the Snitch. Petra rushed towards the two Seekers at full speed, herding a Bludger with her club. Just as Jean-Luc reached out to grab the Snitch, Petra swung her club with all her might. The Bludger narrowly missed Jean-Luc's hand as he pulled it back to avoid the blow. Adrienne then swooped in to nudge the other Seeker out of the way and grabbed the Snitch herself.

"What a stunning play by Beater Weasley! Lynch's capture of the Snitch makes Hogwarts the new Tri-School Quidditch Champion!"

The noise from the crowd was deafening.

Petra aimed her broom down towards the middle of the pitch. Wave upon wave of spectators were filing out of the stands towards the players. People were slapping her on the back and congratulating her, but she hardly noticed, intent as she was on finding her family in the crowd. The red hair really helped.

Finally Petra spotted Uncle Ron, with Hillary on his shoulders, leading Aunt Hermione by the hand. She noted that he was extra careful so that Hermione was not jostled about too much. Aunt Hermione was cautious as well, holding her hand over her protruding stomach. Ron and Hermione were expecting their second baby in September. They enveloped Petra in a warm embrace while Hillary squealed from her perch on Ron's shoulders.

"Spectacular play Petra!" shouted Fred over the din, crushing her to his chest. "No doubt spurred by our rousing cheer, right, George?"

Petra rolled her eyes and fell into her mother's outstretched arms.

"You'd best get to the platform," said Aunt Ginny, pointing over the crowd. "Looks like they're ready to hand out the medals."

Indeed, a beaming Professor McGonagall and the current Minister of Magic, Sirius Black, were already there, accompanied by half of the Hogwarts team.

The last thing Petra heard as she rushed towards the platform was Uncle George giving a huge sigh, "A star Quidditch player and the top of her class. Can a prefect badge be far off?"

"I don't know if I could handle the shame," replied Fred solemnly.

Petra clutched her medallion tight in her hand, grinning at Damien, who was watching her from the crowd. Damien flashed her a wide smile. She let go of the medallion and heard the tinkle of metal on metal as it thumped against her chest. Petra remembered her father's old prefect badge which she had pinned to her Quidditch robes for good luck. She had a feeling that someone else wanted to congratulate her.

Petra closed her eyes briefly and whispered, "Thanks, Dad."

THE END


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